


Golden Arrow

by AgentExile



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: (yeah I'm calling it that), Archery, Forbidden Love, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Nobleman Taeyong, Outlaw Doyoung, Robin Hood AU, Romance, doyoung is a reluctant sweetheart, taeyong is just a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-07
Updated: 2019-06-11
Packaged: 2019-10-06 03:51:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 28,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17338070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentExile/pseuds/AgentExile
Summary: Doyoung is the best bowman in the land. He’s also an outlaw, with a price on his head – he steals from the rich to give to the poor.Taeyong is the youngest son of the Duke: shy, nervous, and utterly desperate to earn the approval of his authoritarian father. But a tremor in his hand makes precision with a bow impossible.When they meet at the archery tourney, with a piece of invaluable gold on offer for the victor, a disguised Doyoung knows he can’t let himself get distracted. But that’s his problem: he’s never been able to say no when someone in need asks him for help.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Of all of my impulse fics, this is the one that was written on the most random impulse. If anyone DOES read it and enjoy it, you will have my heart in gratitude <3  
> Disclaimer: this fic bears absolutely no resemblance to historical accuracy. It’s better considered a ‘Robin Hood AU’ than any sort of historical au, so please allow suspension of disbelief ^_^

   Perhaps if Doyoung had listened to Johnny’s advice – _everyone’s_ advice – he might not have found himself in such a ridiculous situation.

   ‘Don’t do it,’ groaned Johnny, the morning before the world juddered on its axis. ‘It’s not worth it.’

   Doyoung raised his eyebrows, but he didn’t answer. He’d gone over this a hundred times with all of them, and he had no intention of getting into it again. Over and over he’d explained to Johnny exactly why this was worth it: there was a gold prize at the end of it, and gold meant enough leverage to trade for food to last the nearby villages half the year.

   And providing food for those in need was what Doyoung did. Since the higher-ups didn’t bother.

   He’d been doing it for years, even though he’d been born as far from _need_ as it was possible to be. Once upon a time, he’d been an heir to a noble house, one of the nation’s finest hopes, destined for a stellar military career. Until he’d realised the world he was occupying, until he’d realised exactly what would be asked of him once he took his seat, and he’d thrown it all away for a different cause: fighting against the very people he’d grown up with.

   He’d run away as a teenager, after refusing to attend an execution.

   And he’d never looked back.

   Since then, people still knew his name, but for a very different reason. He wasn’t the heir to an earldom anymore, but an outlaw. _The_ outlaw.

   ‘You’re not going to change my mind, Johnny,’ he said, eyeing the two bows that he was taking with him and smoothing over a slightly splintering patch. They were elegant weapons, one a relic from his time training in the military, and one given as a gift from a man whose life he had saved.

   ‘Well you know what? When they catch you, which they will, don’t expect me to show up to your execution.’

   Doyoung smiled. ‘I wouldn’t want you to anyway.’

   That was probably the biggest snag in his masterplan – the fact that he had a bounty on his head and a death warrant nailed to every other board in the region. Apparently, that was what he got for stealing from the rich to protect the poor.

   _No good deed_ , after all.

   ‘But they won’t catch me.’

   ‘Are you crazy, Doyoung?’ Johnny finally said, voice hard. ‘Of course they’ll catch you. You’re the most wanted man in the country. They’ll catch you, and they’ll kill you, and they’ll stick your head on a spike for everyone to see so no one else will ever dare do what you’ve done again.’

   Doyoung sighed. ‘Half of them don’t even know what I look like now. And the drawings don’t do my looks justice,’ he winked, but Johnny didn’t seem to find that funny. ‘And I’ll be wearing a hood. The tourney is full of strange characters, no one will even double-take at a guy in an old hood.’

   No one had seen his face since he was a teenager, since he’d run away to live in the woods. Since then, he had worn a mask. It was his mask that struck the fear of God into the authorities. And he’d aged enough, changed enough, that he was sure most people wouldn’t even recognise him.

   ‘They might not know what you look like, but they’ll know what your shooting looks like. When you score a perfect hit in every single round, do you really think people won’t notice? Your shooting is legend, Doyoung – there’s no one in the world who can do what you do with a bow. You’ll stand out a mile.’

   ‘That’s why I’m going to hit some duff shots,’ he said, as though this were the most obvious thing in the world. ‘I’m not an idiot.’

   ‘I won’t let you do this,’ Johnny stepped in front of him.

   ‘You don’t tell me what to do,’ Doyoung snapped, so loudly that the rest of the camp looked up.

   Doyoung was the leader.

   It was his face sketched on every poster, his name on the tongue of every murderous bounty hunter. It was his name on the execution order.

   Which made him the leader, even amongst outlaws.

   He didn’t usually think of himself that way – he was a _ringleader_ more than a _leader_ , the figurehead and the morale-booster, not the authoritarian. But he wasn’t going to take orders from Johnny, even if he was his oldest friend.

   ‘You don’t tell me what to do,’ he repeated, quieter, as everyone looked quickly back to what they were doing.

   ‘What? Are you pulling rank?’

   ‘No,’ he said curtly. ‘I won’t tell _you_ what to do either. But you do not get to tell me where I can and can’t go. And if you try to stop me, whose side do you think they’ll be on?’ he jerked his head at the group around the fire.

   ‘They all agree with me.’

   ‘Then why aren’t they standing here trying to stop me too? Oh yeah, because they’re not stupid enough to try. Move.’

   ‘No.’

   ‘Move, or I’ll make you move,’ Doyoung gritted his teeth.

   For a moment, the two of them glared at each other, only inches apart. Johnny was considerably taller, but that didn’t bother Doyoung – he knew that he could floor anyone he wanted. He was a good fighter, lithe and quick and nimble. He had never needed brawn, his precision made up for it. That was why he’d always preferred a bow and arrow to a sword.

   ‘If you get yourself killed, Doyoung, I’ll… _kill_ you,’ Johnny finally muttered.

   ‘I’ll keep that in mind,’ Doyoung replied dryly, as he sidestepped him without obstruction and crossed to his horse.

   ‘Please come back,’ Johnny whispered, face turning slack, ‘you know I can’t do this without you.’

   Doyoung nodded as he saddled up. ‘I’ll be back in a few days. _With_ that golden arrow.’

   He mounted his horse and kicked his heels.

   And he didn’t look back.

   He never looked back.

   It made it too hard to head towards danger when he could see his friends’ faces fading in the distance.

*

   It had been a while since Doyoung had set foot in the big town.

   He hadn’t grown up there, instead spending his childhood on an expansive estate out in the countryside. Occasionally, he’d visited, but more often than that people had come to visit _them_. They were that kind of important. Once he’d fled, after confiding his worries about the brutal system to his father and finding himself with a _dangerous_ warning to keep his mouth shut about that kind of talk, he’d gone closer to the town. In his early days as an outlaw, he’d snuck into the centre regularly to try to get at the Duke’s citadel, but the older he’d got, the riskier it had become, and he’d retreated more to the forest, content to rob the passing carriages, the travelling noblemen, for their purses.

   He only came to the town now on the days when he just couldn’t stop himself – when he was the only hope people had to stop something terrible from happening.

   The last time he’d entered the citadel had been on an execution day, several months ago, when he couldn’t sit around in the forest. The thieves they were killing were just _kids_ , teenagers trying to get bread for their starving families. He couldn’t stop himself – he’d had to go. He was the only man in the land who could shoot through a hangman’s noose from the roof of a nearby building, the only man with enough followers behind him to get three boys out of the city even as the whole guard tried to stop them.

   The three boys – Jeno, Jaemin, Renjun - were part of his gang, now. It would never be safe for them to return home.

   The town was dirty, and loud, and the air was heavy with a reeking scent of tanning leather. Doyoung went first to the stables, where he could house his horse, and then he moved forth on foot, hood low over his face. As expected, no one spared him a glance. The town was full of people who wanted to hide their face for one reason or another – gambling debts, criminal activity, even men sneaking away for trysts with women who were not their wives.

   And that was on a _normal_ day.

   This week, there were even more interesting characters around. The tourneys always drew all different sorts of people – soldiers, peasants, noblemen. Everyone was there for a different reason: to show their skill; desperation to feed themselves; a point to prove about their name.

   Doyoung travelled quickly to an inn that he knew – knew _well_. He had a contact there, a lady who would recognise him, but there was no way she would give him up to the authorities. When he was only eighteen himself, he’d saved her son from a brutal punishment for stealing.

   He slipped past the crowds and went straight to the bar.

   ‘Cheap mead only today, I’m afraid, if you don’t like it - ’

   ‘Actually, I was hoping for a room,’ he said quietly, leaning forwards so that he could peer a little up, revealing his eyes from the shadow of his hood. ‘For the week.’

   She met his eyes, lips parting in shock. The moment that she recognised him was painted all across her face. ‘A – a room?’

   ‘Yes, for the week.’

   She gulped, and leaned closer to him, eyes flitting anxiously around the crowd. ‘Would that be a… a private room, Mr…?’

   ‘Just call me Archer,’ he smiled. It was hardly an incongruous epithet. He was certain that there would be plenty of other entries in the tourney who would conceal their real names and give only such a title. That was why he liked the tourneys – they encouraged anonymity. On that field, he was just a bowman.

   ‘It’s very busy,’ she said nervously, ‘what with the tourney and - ’

   ‘I’ll pay well. You know I will.’

   ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘okay, of course. But no charge.’

   Doyoung had a lot of things to do. He dumped some of his stuff in the tiny, unpleasant smelling room at the inn, though he kept his weapon close at his side. Usually, weapons were banned inside the town walls, but exceptions were made for the tourney. Doyoung felt rather more comfortable with his bow over his shoulder, what with knowing that half the guards he passed would want to kill him on sight if they discovered his name.

   Then, he travelled to the make-shift range that had been assembled in the courtyard of the Duke’s fortress.

   ‘You have to pass through a preliminary round,’ said a harried organiser, voice gruff. In between talking to Doyoung, he was barking orders at the crowds. Everyone in the town, it seemed, wanted a place in the competition. Doyoung knew that no matter how bad a shot they were, no one could resist a chance at the golden arrow, a hope of some kind of fluke to win them a fortune.

   ‘Preliminary?’ he raised his eyebrows.

   ‘To check you can actually hit a target,’ the man muttered. ‘We’re trying to get rid of this chaff,’ he nodded to the hordes of people. ‘What a waste of time.’

   ‘Okay,’ Doyoung shrugged. ‘Where do I go?’

   ‘First I need a name.’

   ‘Archer,’ he answered automatically.

   ‘Another one? Why is it you lot are so secretive?’

   Doyoung knew the answer: half of the entrants were probably soldiers who had _not_ been granted leave, but had snuck out anyway. ‘Do you want me to choose something else?’ he said lightly.

   ‘Nah. ‘s fine. Doesn’t make a difference to me.’ The guy held out a small, wooden tag to hang around his neck. ‘This has your number on. Don’t lose it, or you’re out.’

   ‘Understood.’

   He turned the tag over in his hand. The number was carved crudely, hacked out with a knife, with an x-like symbol to represent the dukedom.

   ‘There’s a prelim starting in a minute, over by the gallows.’

   Doyoung’s stomach lurched at that. As if they couldn’t have moved them for the event – as if they weren’t being left there exactly as a symbol of _threat_.

   ‘Thanks,’ he nodded.

   He made his way through the crowd towards the makeshift range, keeping his head low and his hood lower.

   There were nerves in the pit of his stomach, but they were nothing to do with the arrows he’d be shooting. Doyoung wasn’t nervous about his ability. He knew that he was the finest marksman in the land. But he was nervous, in the shadow of the gallows, so innocuous looking without a rope hanging. If anyone caught him – if anyone guessed – it would be him and his bow against the entire city guard, or he’d end up right there.

   Still, he would fancy his chances. He’d made his way out of some tight spots over the years.

   He joined the mob waiting to shoot before some kind of adjudicator, enjoying the chaos. If was going to be noticed, it wasn’t today. It would be later, when the crowd was whittled down, when all eyes would be on him.

   Whatever he had promised Johnny, he still hadn’t really thought that far ahead.

   But he always figured something out.

   The crowd was slow moving, but he wasn’t going to draw attention to himself by pushing to the front, so he watched for a while, semi-interested.

   There weren’t many good shots, which was exactly why this round had been introduced. There were two kids, they couldn’t even be teens yet Doyoung was sure, who had to be shown which way round to hold the bow. There was an old man, _so_ old that he couldn’t seem to find the upper arm strength to pull back the bow string. Then there was a group of young soldiers, and a couple of castle guards, who were rather better but still uninspiring. Then, just when Doyoung was reaching the front of the crowd, there was a whisper of interest.

   His head whipped around, senses on high alert. But people weren’t looking at him.

   ‘Move aside, move aside!’

   He was shoved, almost falling into the guy next to him, as a group of four guards pushed their way through the throng, an impenetrable unit of weapons and armour around a small figure in their midst.

   Curiosity getting the better of him, Doyoung made his way properly to the front.

   The boy was unfamiliar. Or was he?

   He was a man, really, probably Doyoung’s age or similar by the looks of him from his limited angle, but he looked younger than him. Doyoung had been aged by his time in the woods, whereas this stranger was pristine and clean with impeccably smoothed dark hair and fine, brightly coloured clothing. Wealth rolled from him in waves.

   Doyoung narrowed his eyes.

   It wasn’t a surprise to see someone dressed that way, with personal guards. These tourneys always attracted young nobles, eager to prove their ability. But for some reason, Doyoung felt he recognised his gait.

   Everyone was pinned back, somewhat roughly, as he prepared to take his three shots.

   The first one struck, and the crowd exhaled.

   It was a good shot. Not perfect, but good. It struck the second inner ring. Doyoung edged to a better position to eye the second. The man had a good stance, a good grip, a good posture. He liked it.

   He took a breath, there was a pause, and then a collective groan.

   The second arrow struck the wood supporting the target with a splintering thud. Doyoung narrowed his eyes.

   Slowly, slightly uneasily, the murmuring in the crowd turned to laughs.

   Doyoung frowned, despite himself.

   He wasn’t in the business of defending the rich, but he didn’t laugh at people for missing a shot, either.

   The third was even worse.

   A guard jumped out of the way, narrowly avoiding the wayward arrow.

   Laughter rippled.

   For a moment, Doyoung felt his stomach twist, and then the man turned, and for a fraction of a second their eyes met.

   He was painfully handsome, with prominent cheekbones and wide, agonised eyes. Doyoung knew from that split second that the boy probably wished the ground would swallow him up.

   _Maybe he should have worn a hood_ , Doyoung thought.

   He looked down. He couldn’t risk holding his gaze any longer.

   ‘It’s him alright! With a face like that?’

   ‘Embarrassment, huh?’

   Doyoung looked up as the two men beside him muttered to each other.

   ‘Guess that’s why his father hides him away,’ the other laughed.

   Doyoung looked at the rapidly retreating figure of the shamed boy.

   _Oh_.

   He’d _known_ that he recognised him.

*

   The city was harder to navigate at night. There were less people about, but the ones who were asked more questions. Doyoung told each guard politely that he was going to the range to practice, but they didn’t seem too happy about it. In the end, it had taken a small amount of trickery to find his way to the targets.

   Really, he wanted a chance to scope out the arrangements.

   If he could find where they were hiding the prize arrow, glinting gold, he could cut this whole trip short.

   Frustratingly, though, the courtyard was occupied.

   Two soldiers, in the unmistakable loose blue hoods of the castle guard, were practicing on the targets.

   Doyoung sighed so heavily that his shoulders actually slumped. Guards could always be counted on to get in the way.

   He was just thinking of taking off and investigating somewhere else, when the smaller of the two took three shots in rapid succession.

   The three arrows clustered around the centre with particular force, fletching stacked together, perhaps not quite on the point like Doyoung would have put them, but close enough.

   Doyoung raised his eyebrows. No one had shot like that in the first set of preliminaries that he had been witness to.

   His _damn_ curiosity again. He couldn’t help it. He stepped closer, hoping to see him take another go, but he was punished for his nosiness when his foot collided with a stone and the two of them looked up with equal speed.

   ‘Sorry,’ he said, heart in his mouth for a moment. ‘Just wanted to practice.’

   ‘Yeah? Well you can’t practice here,’ said the taller, his voice unforgiving. ‘You shouldn’t even be inside these walls.’

   ‘Oh… really?’ Doyoung said weakly. ‘Guards must have left the gates open. I apologise, I didn’t mean to interrupt. Sorry. I’ll go practice somewhere else.’

   ‘Good.’

   ‘It’s okay, Jaehyun. He can practice here. I need to go back to my quarters anyway. If my father finds out…’

   Doyoung stared at the one who’d taken such brilliant shots, just as the firelight of the nearby torches flickered across his face.

   Maybe the hood could conceal him from a distance, just like Doyoung’s did, but up close he was so recognisable that it made the disguise laughable. How could it ever have taken Doyoung so long earlier to figure out where he knew him from?

   The Duke’s younger son was rarely seen in public. There were a lot of rumours – that he was so beautiful that he had to be kept hidden away like some precious artefact; that he was sick and frail and not fit to be outside; even that he wasn’t the Duke’s real son and that if he were allowed to walk around town people would see the lack of resemblance.

   The question of how many of those were true remained to be seen, but Doyoung had a fair idea.

   Doyoung, unlike most people, had seen Taeyong up close. He had first met him so many years earlier that the memory was fuzzy, and at least partly filled in by imagination, but he did remember the Duke bringing him to the country estate of Doyoung’s father for some sort of trip, one time. Taeyong had been a year older than Doyoung, but already smaller. He’d known then, but had of course heard more so since, that the Duke’s son was sickly in some way. It was inconsequential – Taeyong was the second son and therefore distinctly less important than his older brother – but the rumours weren’t good for the Duke’s reputation.

   Nor were the rumours of his true parentage.

   And he was certainly beautiful. Yes. Of the three, that was the most obvious at a glance.

   ‘Don’t mind me,’ said Doyoung, pulse thumping in his ears as he tried to figure a way to work this scenario to his advantage.

   ‘No really, it’s fine.’

   Another flicker of light, and Doyoung saw that Taeyong’s eyes were rimmed red, as though he’d been crying.

   He threw caution to the wind. ‘You’re not a guard. You’re - ’

   ‘Let’s go, sir,’ the _real_ guard said earnestly, taking Taeyong’s arm, but the boy pulled it free.

   ‘You’re Taeyong,’ said Doyoung. ‘You’re the Duke’s son.’

   ‘Let’s _go_ ,’ the guard said, voice harder than before, then he put up a hand towards Doyoung, ‘and you can back off.’

   Doyoung just shrugged, even though his mind was whirring a thousand miles a second. ‘I saw you earlier,’ he said, but how much earlier, Taeyong wouldn’t know. ‘At the preliminaries,’ he added.

   ‘I saw you too.’

   ‘You didn’t shoot like that,’ Doyoung nodded to the target. His curiosity again. He should just go, go _now_ , because there could be few things in the world more dangerous than letting himself be seen by the Duke’s son, letting him commit him to memory, or _worse_ : giving Taeyong the time to figure out where he might have seen him before, long ago.

   But he had to ask. The boy who’d screwed up so terribly earlier surely couldn’t be the same who’d buried three tidy shots like this?

   Taeyong swallowed, glancing sideways at his guard. ‘I – I can’t shoot like that when people are watching me.’

   Doyoung met his eyes. ‘Fair enough. You’re not the first person to miss under pressure. I’ll… go find somewhere else to practice,’ he forced himself turn, but to his surprise, a hand closed on his wrist. It took every ounce of his self-control to stop himself from throwing the hand off in reflex.

   ‘You were amazing,’ said Taeyong. His grip was tight, even though his fingers were slender. ‘You hit nearly every spot.’

   Doyoung cursed himself for showing off. Johnny had warned him against it. Sometimes he just couldn’t help himself.

   One day, it would be his downfall, he was sure.

   He’d put in two perfect arrows before reminding himself to throw one sideways.

   ‘I got lucky, I guess.’

   ‘Please help me.’

   ‘ _What_?’ Doyoung spluttered.

   ‘Please,’ said Taeyong, and there was a hint of desperation in his voice. ‘Please. I know I don’t know you but – but I _have_ to do well at the tourney. If I don’t, my father will - ’ he looked down. ‘Please. I have to do well. He already hates me enough as it is and if I embarrass myself in front of all those people he’ll probably never let me outside the castle ever again for the shame.’

   ‘No.’ He turned on his heel. There was no way – no _way_ – that he was going to get roped into helping out the Duke’s son, however helpless he might look, for more than one reason. Firstly, he didn’t help noblemen; he _stole_ from noblemen. Secondly, he _really_ couldn’t take the risk that Taeyong might recognise him.

   ‘ _Please._ ’

   ‘Why would I help you?’ Doyoung rounded on him. ‘You mean nothing to me.’

   ‘I’ll pay you,’ he said quickly, ‘I can pay you as much as that stupid golden arrow is worth. Please. I don’t care about winning, I don’t need gold, I’ve got loads of it, I just have to – I have to do better than I did today. And you can teach me. You were incredible. Please.’

   Doyoung gritted his teeth and closed his eyes.

   All of Johnny’s warnings rang around his ears.

   But at the same time, he was thinking – he was thinking about how it would feel to walk away from the city not only with the golden arrow, but with another hefty coin purse courtesy of the noble house he resented so much.

   Then he opened his eyes, and he met Taeyong’s gaze.

   _God_ he looked naïve. He hadn’t even asked Doyoung for his name. His eyes sparkled in the moonlight, shiny with desperation and with a glimmer of pain that made Doyoung’s stomach turn and his heart ache.

   ‘I - _fine_.’

   ‘Thank you,’ Taeyong choked. ‘ _Thank_ you.’

   ‘But I don’t know how much I can do for you – the finals are only in a few days.’

   ‘I know, I know, but I just know you can help, I _know_ it,’ Taeyong said earnestly. ‘It’s like I just… _know_ you.’

   Doyoung stared at him. ‘Right.’

   Perhaps if he’d listened to Johnny’s advice in the first place, he wouldn’t have found himself in this ridiculous situation.

   But he’d never been good at following orders.

   And he’d never been good at saying no to someone in need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/puffyong_)


	2. Chapter 2

   ‘ _No one_ can find out,’ said Taeyong, in a hushed voice. ‘My father will be _furious_ if he hears that I’m getting help from my competitor of all people!’

   ‘Yeah, cool, I mean that’s fine.’ Doyoung shrugged in faux nonchalance, not wanting to look too relieved. ‘What about _him_?’

   ‘Oh this is Jaehyun,’ said Taeyong, turning toward where Doyoung had nodded. ‘He’s my personal guard. We’ve known each other since we were kids. He’s been trying to help me but… but nothing’s working.’

   Doyoung thought for a moment, trying to keep a sensible head. He’d always been hot-headed; it was why he and Johnny made a good team, because it was Johnny who was usually able to deter him from his riskier ideas. But Johnny wasn’t here. And Doyoung could smell _opportunity_ on the air.

   ‘We need somewhere to practice,’ he said. ‘Somewhere that isn’t the courtyard, if you don’t want us to get caught. And somewhere for the daytime – I’m not teaching you a fine art by torchlight.’

   ‘I have a place.’

   Taeyong and Doyoung both looked at Jaehyun in surprise.

   ‘We can use the guards’ training grounds. Everyone likes you, Taeyong, they wouldn’t tell.’

   Taeyong chewed his lip, but he nodded. ‘Okay.’

   The words made Doyoung edge dangerously close to a smile. Was Taeyong popular around the castle? Outside, people built their opinions about him on rumour, but inside? He could imagine it. He had a pretty face and a nice smile and an innocence that was appealing – he suspected that it would be difficult for people _not_ to like Taeyong.

   He tried to remember what Taeyong had been like when he’d met him, all those years ago, but he couldn’t recall the details. Even the images were fuzzy. He remembered his father, the Duke, but only because he’d seen him so many times since. Taeyong was one singular vague memory.

   Either way, it didn’t matter.

   It was obvious how he was now, how _they_ were now.

   Taeyong had grown into a sheltered nobleman, naïve enough to recruit the help of a stranger in a hood.

   And Doyoung had grown into a cynical outlaw who was going to take advantage of that naivety to find his way to a nice pile of gold.

   The past didn’t matter.

   ‘What should I call you?’ Taeyong asked.

   For a moment, Doyoung paused. ‘You can either have my help or my name, but you can’t have both.’

   Taeyong’s eyes flickered to Jaehyun’s. His guard didn’t look happy. _At_ all.

   Doyoung decided to use the most obvious excuse. ‘I wasn’t granted leave. I’d rather not share around my name.’

   ‘You’re a soldier?’

   Doyoung inclined his head. ‘In search of a golden arrow.’

   ‘Well… well I don’t want people knowing what we’re doing either, so it’s fine,’ Taeyong straightened up.

   ‘I want some kind of insurance,’ said Doyoung, confident that he could take a bit of a risk. ‘How do I know that I’m not going to waste my time helping you, only for you to run off back to your ivory tower and I get nothing?’

   Taeyong swallowed. Then, he shifted aside the front of his rough blue cloak and exposed the finery underneath. Oh yes, those were the clothes of a nobleman alright. His shirt was white and loose, but threaded with gold embroidery. He’d unlaced the top ties, perhaps for comfort, and the neck fell open to expose a deeply defined clavicle. He was quite thin, but not in a way that made him look sick. He was just… delicate.

   ‘Here.’ He unhooked two silver pins that kept the material in place lower down. ‘They’re silver.’

   Doyoung took the two pins between his fingers and turned them over. ‘Alright.’ This sort of silver could be traded for grain, traded for the health of poor families. But people up here stuck it in their clothing. His jaw set. _Just a few days_ , he told himself, _a few days of work and you’ll be taking home double what you came for_. ‘I want you to meet me at dawn, tomorrow, at the training grounds. No later.’

   ‘Okay,’ Taeyong nodded quickly. He was smiling. _Smiling_. For some reason that irritated Doyoung. He was too… sweet.

   Doyoung sighed. ‘Make sure you sleep, properly, for the rest of tonight. You won’t shoot straight if you’re tired.’

   ‘Yes, sir!’ said Taeyong. He obviously meant it in a light-hearted way, but the word made Doyoung’s stomach churn. Once upon a time, people had called him that. Such a title had been his destiny. And he’d worked his whole life since trying to _rid_ himself of the word.

   ‘Dawn,’ he said again, this time through gritted teeth.

*

   There was a strange mixture of nerves in Doyoung’s stomach as he walked across town, out of the high gates, and into a smaller, lower-walled area reserved mainly for the castle guards. Despite his instructions to Taeyong, he’d been awake for most of the night himself, thinking through what he was about to do. Now, in the cold light of day, it seemed like a stupider idea. Under cover of darkness, he’d been able to convince himself that he could get away with it, but with the morning sun starting to illuminate the town, he felt _exposed_. He knew what Johnny would say.

   But with two silver pins already hidden away somewhere safe, and the promise of more on the horizon, he kept walking.

   And there was a part of him that was still just a little _curious,_ too.

   The training grounds were quiet, and he knew why – guards were heavy drinkers, and there was no way they’d get to work that early. He spotted Taeyong and Jaehyun immediately, over by the targets. They were conveniently placed, a way away from the rest of the equipment, owing to the need for distance.

   When he walked over to them, Taeyong yawned.

   At that, he raised his eyebrows.

   ‘He doesn’t usually get up this early,’ Jaehyun supplied dryly.

   ‘Okay, let’s… let’s get to work, then,’ he sighed. ‘Can you leave us alone for a while?’

   ‘Absolutely not,’ said Jaehyun.

   Doyoung fought the urge to roll his eyes. ‘Can’t you just go and work on some other equipment for a bit? I want to be able to talk to him without feeling like someone else is breathing down my neck. We need to focus.’

   ‘It’s okay, Jaehyun,’ Taeyong yawned again. ‘We’re in the guards’ grounds, I think I’ll be safe.’

   ‘I’ll be watching,’ his guard said, sounding vaguely threatening.

   At that, Doyoung really did roll his eyes, but then he nodded to the bow Taeyong had propped up. ‘Let’s get started, then.’

   Taeyong looked fresh-faced for someone who was yawning. In the daylight, with time to look at him properly, Doyoung could carry out a more comprehensive study. He was pale in the pallid sort of way, like he didn’t get enough sun, but that wasn’t a surprise; Doyoung knew that he didn’t make it out of the castle much. His hair was slightly mussed up, as though he’d flattened it quickly in the morning but not taken much care over it, and his clothes weren’t quite straight, either. But there weren’t any shadows under his eyes, and there was a sparkle around the wide, dark irises.

   ‘I just want to watch you, at first,’ said Doyoung.

   ‘W-watch me?’

   ‘I want to see how you shoot, what your problem is.’

   ‘I know what the problem is. It’s nerves,’ said Taeyong, ‘I can’t do it in front of a crowd.’

   ‘Yeah, I know that, but I want to take a look all the same. There are strategies, to reduce the physical impact of the nerves.’ Doyoung didn’t add that the reason he knew this was that he’d had to learn the hard way himself. He couldn’t allow nerves to get the better of him when he had one arrow to save a life.

   Taeyong looked embarrassed as he picked up his bow, but from the offset, Doyoung hardly thought he had anything to be embarrassed about.

   He had lovely posture. His grip was perfect. He breathed at the right moments and his shoulders had nice balance and his neck wasn’t stiff. He’d clearly been taught by someone of the highest class, which explained the way that he’d seen him shoot the previous night. There was just one problem.

   His first arrow missed. Drastically.

   ‘Keep going,’ said Doyoung.

   The second was almost as bad, but the third was much better.

   He nodded again as though to indicate Taeyong shouldn’t stop.

   So it went on. And on. And on. He watched Taeyong’s head, his arms, his hands, eyes narrowed.

   Taeyong looked _deeply_ relieved when Doyoung finally allowed him to stop.

   ‘Your left hand shakes.’

   ‘I know,’ Taeyong whispered.

   ‘It was worse the first couple of shots.’

   He nodded, looking down. ‘It gets worse when I’m nervous. This is what I’ve been telling you. It wasn’t so bad once I got used to you watching.’

   ‘It gets worse when you’re nervous, but it’s like it all the time? Somewhat, at least?’

   ‘Yes. Yes, it’s like it all the time. I even drop things, sometimes, especially if my father’s around.’

   ‘Because he scares you?’

   Taeyong flushed furiously red. ‘I’m always worried about doing something stupid in front of him. He’s never liked me. It’s like I’m invisible to him unless I do something wrong and _then_ he notices. That’s why I have to do well at the tourney. I – I just want to impress him, I _have_ to, but if I do badly then it’ll make it even worse.’

   Doyoung stared at him.

   This boy, this man, was such an open book that it made his heart feel odd. Doyoung had locked away the personal parts of himself for so long that it felt strange to see someone paint their emotions all across their face; no one, really, was like that in the forest. That sort of life didn’t allow space for vulnerability. Anything that exposed that side of Doyoung had been buried for a long time – it was something that could be used against him, and that would put him at risk.

   Taeyong, though? Perhaps he’d never been in a situation dangerous enough to feel the need to hide. Perhaps growing up kept inside his high walls had left him anxious to find someone new just to _talk_ to.

   ‘Alright,’ Doyoung nodded. ‘I’ll do my best. Can I… would you mind me…’ He wasn’t sure how to phrase it.

   Taeyong’s eyes widened as he lifted his brows in a question.

   ‘Here,’ Doyoung crossed over to him. He took a deep breath before taking hold of Taeyong’s arms and moving them back into position. He half expected to be attacked from behind by Jaehyun at any second, so he braced himself for that, but Taeyong didn’t protest. ‘I want to feel it when you shoot.’

   He was close enough to hear Taeyong swallow. ‘Okay.’ His mouth sounded dry.

   Doyoung rested his hands gently on Taeyong’s as he lifted the bow again. He was very careful to maintain as much distance between them as he could, even though the position dictated that his chest be very close to Taeyong’s back.

   Suddenly, he was acutely aware of everything _Taeyong_. His skin was soft, smooth, not at all like Doyoung’s. Doyoung felt strangely embarrassed, like the callouses on his fingers were something to be ashamed of, before he shook the thought away and remembered that the reason Taeyong felt like this was that he’d probably never worked a day in his life. He could smell him, too, something strong and floral, like he bathed in rose petals.

   Beyond that, though, he felt too the way that Taeyong quivered slightly when he touched him, and even the way that heat crept up the back of his neck.

   Doyoung did nothing to influence the shot – if he had done, it would have been a better one. More flustered than ever, Taeyong sent the arrow slicing sideways. That had been, though, Doyoung’s exact intention. He wanted to feel the tremor at its worst.

   ‘Go again,’ he breathed, very close to Taeyong’s ear. This time, he kept his fingers light at his wrists, barely touching, so that he could feel the way they knocked against his skin with the exertion.

   When he released him, Taeyong’s shoulders slumped in relief. ‘Sorry,’ he whispered, ‘I think that made me _really_ nervous.’

   Doyoung forced a laugh, but he was thinking. ‘Your right hand shakes too, you know. It’s just not as bad because it’s so tight on the bowstring.’

   ‘I guess.’

   Thoughts knocked around Doyoung’s head. ‘I have a friend here in the town, who’s remarkably good with making things. He’s a bit of a jack of all trades. I’m just thinking that he might be able to come up with something to help you, some sort of brace or weight to keep your left hand more steady.’

   Taeyong’s eyes lit up in excitement. ‘You – you think something like that could work?’

   Maybe he shouldn’t care so much, but Doyoung couldn’t help but hope that it would. ‘I mean I’m not sure, I doubt it would solve the problem completely, but it could help a little.’

   The smile he received in response was positively radiant. ‘Your friend, I can pay him lots,’ said Taeyong, ‘whatever he wants.’

   ‘It must be nice, being able to throw gold at a problem,’ said Doyoung, before he could stop himself.

   There was a moment of quiet, _awkward_ quiet.

   ‘I’m sorry,’ said Taeyong. ‘I didn’t – I didn’t mean - ’

   ‘No, no, I’m sorry,’ Doyoung shook his head. ‘That was a stupid thing to say. I just can’t – you know, someone like me can’t imagine…’ he trailed off, not wanting to dig himself further into a hole in the process of trying to climb out of it.

   ‘I’m really sorry. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.’

   Doyoung straightened up. ‘Let’s shoot again.’

   For the next hour or so, the arrangement felt more professional, more detached. Doyoung went through the motions, he demonstrated what he could do, but there wasn’t much to _teach_ Taeyong. Once he relaxed, once he got used to Doyoung watching him, once the pressure was off, he was an excellent archer. Really quite interesting. Doyoung enjoyed his style.

   It was very _fine_ , careful, much like Taeyong himself. There weren’t many good bowmen in the locality – the guards preferred wielding their swords and shields to studying the art of archery. The more settled that he got, the more speed Taeyong fired with, but at no point did his technique deteriorate.

   ‘Really good,’ Doyoung murmured, ‘you’re really good.’

   ‘Thank you,’ Taeyong said shyly. ‘I just wish… I wish everyone else could get to see me like this.’

   Doyoung sighed. ‘We’ll work on it.’ Part of him wished that he’d met Taeyong earlier – that he could have had more time to help him because a few days was nothing.

   Then he reminded himself that he wasn’t _here_ to help Taeyong. He was here for gold. He didn’t help noblemen.

   But he had this _need_ to help – this ingrained sense of _care_ that he’d never been able to shift. It was the reason he’d left his home and ended up in the forest in the first place. And Taeyong was horribly… helpable.

   It was when the grounds started to fill up, when more action started to take place, that Doyoung decided to call it a day. He knew that he was being paranoid, but every time someone glanced their way he felt a crawling up the back of his neck. To his surprise, no one approached them; in fact, everyone gave them quite a wide berth, but when Doyoung glanced in the direction of Jaehyun, he started to suspect that he was the reason why. He was positively _prowling_.

   No one here had ever seen Doyoung without his mask on. That was what he kept telling himself. His face was entirely covered whenever he entered the town. Only one person here had ever seen him clearly, and the irony of that? It was the one person Doyoung was actually talking to.

   ‘I’ll talk to my friend, later,’ said Doyoung as he rearranged his hood, ready to move back through the city, ‘and see what he can do.’

   ‘Okay,’ Taeyong answered excitedly, ‘thank you. _Thank_ you.’

   ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he nodded.

   He needed to talk to Kun.

*

   The first time that Doyoung had met Kun, it had been an accident that could have cost him his life. He’d been running, running like he’d never run before, through the town late at night. Three castle guards were hot on his heels. It wasn’t a playful chase, wasn’t one of the ones that he indulged in if he was feeling especially risk-seeking. It was one of those chases far too close for comfort in a territory that was not his own, and he knew that one bad move could see him swing.

   When he’d found himself at a dead end, he’d crashed through the nearest half open door, ready to threaten his way out.

   Kun, who had been collecting one of the local stray cats to bring in for safety for the night, had taken one quick look at him before closing the door hurriedly and ushering him to the cellar of his workshop to hide him.

   Kun, like so many people around town, had heard all the rumours. And like so many people, he had known someone that Doyoung had saved.

   From that moment on, the two had become unlikely allies.

   It was Kun who had made his first proper, secure mask, rather than the raggedy one that Doyoung had constructed for himself. It was Kun who had made his flexible arm guards, which was why he had sprung to mind when thinking about Taeyong. It was Kun who could be called upon for the strangest, most specific requests when Doyoung needed to set a trap for a carriage or something equally sneaky.

   ‘I figured you’d come to town,’ said Kun, as he let Doyoung through the door. ‘When I saw the signs for the tourney go up. You just can’t help yourself.’

   ‘There’s a golden arrow on offer.’ Doyoung’s voice sounded a little defensive.

   Kun gave him a small smile. ‘It’s not really about the gold though, is it? You like to show off, Doyoung, especially if it means making a point in front of the nobles. Even if they don’t know who you are.’

   He thought about arguing, but then he just smiled. ‘Yes. Well, Johnny’s given me strict instructions not to show off.’

   ‘So what are you after?’ asked Kun as he walked him through to his workshop.

   Doyoung liked it in here. A strong smell of leather hovered in the air, but so too a scent of freshly worked wood and a sort of heady oil that he must have been using to treat another material. ‘I’m looking for some kind of wrist brace, something that could stop shaking hands.’

   Kun raised his eyebrows. He had a friendly face, but Doyoung knew that he could be severe when he wanted. ‘You haven’t hurt yourself, have you?’

   ‘No, no, I’m fine. It’s for a friend.’

   ‘One of your boys?’

   ‘Not exactly.’

   Kun leant back against his workbench. ‘What are you thinking? Some kind of weight?’

   ‘ _Exactly_ ,’ Doyoung nodded, glad that he hadn’t been the only one to think of this. ‘That’s what I was thinking, anyway.’

   ‘I’m no physician.’

   ‘I know, I know. It doesn’t need to be anything intricate, he doesn’t lack strength or anything. It’s stress, nerves, not an injury. He needs something to keep his left hand steady.’

   ‘I can give it a go, but I can’t promise anything,’ Kun nodded as his eyes flitted around his own workshop as though already planning ideas. ‘I’d rather you brought him to see me, though. It would need to be fitted properly to have any effect.’

   ‘That could be… difficult.’

   ‘What are you up to, Doyoung?’

   Doyoung sighed and avoided that question. ‘Would you draw something up for me? I’ll see what I can do.’

   He knew that Kun was right, that he would need to have Taeyong in the room if he were to have any hope of creating anything effective. That, though, left Doyoung with a whole new host of problems.

   He had to figure out how to smuggle the Duke’s youngest son out of the castle walls, and probably his personal guard alongside him. He had to decide whether or not it was worth risking _Kun’s_ safety by bringing him there. He had to make a call once and for all whether it was all _worth_ it.

   But it felt worth it.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/puffyong_)


	3. Chapter 3

   ‘I think it would be better if we went alone.’

   ‘No way. It’s not going to happen. There’s no point even discussing it.’

   Taeyong glanced between the two of them as they argued. He had this sort of blank expression during moments like this, blinking slowly, but Doyoung had come to recognise that this meant there were cogs working on the inside as he thought. Maybe he was better at concealing his emotions than he’d given him credit for.

   ‘He’s more likely to be seen if there’s a big lumbering guard drawing attention to us,’ snapped Doyoung. ‘With me, no one will even notice.’

   ‘God I - ’ Jaehyun started, but Taeyong rested a hand on his forearm and held him back. Jaehyun didn’t fight. Clearly, Taeyong was the one with the authority, however quieter, however smaller he might be.

   ‘I’ll go with him alone,’ he said, voice soft but firm. ‘He’s right, Jaehyun. I’ll put on a hood and no one will even notice us.’

   Jaehyun gritted his teeth. ‘You’ll have to go at night. You can’t move around the castle during the day without being noticed, and there’s too much of a risk that your family will demand your presence.’

   Doyoung nodded, ‘I’ll take him out in the evening and bring him back.’

   ‘I can bring myself,’ said Taeyong and he straightened up.

   Jaehyun and Doyoung spoke in unison: ‘No you can’t.’

   This development was both a relief and a stress for Doyoung. On the one hand, he was happier knowing that he could take Taeyong to meet Kun as soon as possible; they were on an extremely tight time schedule with the next round of the tourney only three days away. On the other hand, he now had the added anxiety of having to smuggle the Duke’s son around town at night. Excellent.

   However hard he tried to ignore it, though, there was an excitement there, hidden away. Thank God Johnny wasn’t here or he’d see it in a second and tear his hair out in frustration. Doyoung enjoyed danger. No matter how much he told himself it was wrong, the more risky something was the more he liked it. Maybe that was how his life had ended up this way in the first place.

   There was something very useful to learn as the afternoon tiptoed towards evening, and he used that as an excuse in his mind. He was granted the opportunity to learn the way to the small corner of the Duke’s residence where Taeyong slept.

   ‘You bring him back all the way to this door,’ said Jaehyun as he showed him the half-hidden external entrance. ‘If you’re late, I’ll string you up.’

   _If you knew who I was, you’d string me up_ , thought Doyoung, but he managed to keep himself from saying _that_ one aloud. He wondered, for a moment, whether Jaehyun would be so trusting as to bring him here if Taeyong’s word didn’t exceed him in rank. He hardly thought so. ‘Got it.’

   Doyoung allowed his eyes to travel. He had been inside the castle a couple of times, always for something devious, but he’d never seen this part. It was a small, curved part of the building, like a little tower all by itself. Perhaps the ivory tower wasn’t so far from the truth after all.

   Over time, he was building a complex map of the entire citadel in his brain. This was a detail that might serve him well in the future.

   In the evening, he returned, early enough that the sun hadn’t quite set. At this time, the gates were still open, with the castle courtyard deemed a public space for announcements and meetings. As soon as the sun went down, the gates would close, so getting him back in would be more of a struggle. Doyoung would think about that later.

   Only Jaehyun was hovering by the outside door, and he gave him a familiar glare, which Doyoung responded to with a sarcastic smile. When Taeyong emerged, the smile widened.

   He was dressed down in clothes that surely weren’t his own. There wouldn’t be anything in his clothes chests that looked as old and worn and cheap as these. The shirt and waistcoat were too big for him, too. With him, he’d brought a heavy, woollen cloak, which Doyoung walked forwards to wrap around him immediately. He lifted the hood up and arranged it around his face.

   His face.

   That would be hard to hide.

   He really did have the face of an angel. It was almost like he glowed.

   Jaehyun tapped his foot impatiently as Doyoung worked with the folds. The backs of his fingers brushed across Taeyong’s face and he drew back, eager to avoid a sword through his gut from Jaehyun. Taeyong looked down, shy. His skin was so soft.

   ‘Alright, you’re good to go,’ he said. ‘Keep your head down.’

   Taeyong nodded and inclined his head a little. It wasn’t just to keep the hood forwards, but also because no one, no _normal person_ in the town, had the sort of posture that noblemen did. Straight backs, chin slightly up with an aura of self-importance. Not that Taeyong was the worst culprit, but Doyoung didn’t want him looking too upright all the same.

   ‘Bring him back,’ said Jaehyun, and there was no hint of humour, no hint of ease in his voice.

   ‘I will,’ said Doyoung, with a roll of his eyes. ‘I want to get paid, don’t I?’

   He took Taeyong through the city gates just as the last of the sun disappeared, with such a fine margin that they actually heard the clanking as the portcullis was lowered behind them.

   ‘This is quite exciting!’ whispered Taeyong, though his voice was at a level where it could barely be called a whisper.

   ‘Shh!’ Doyoung hushed quickly. Normal people didn’t announce everything like that either.

   ‘Sorry! It’s just I don’t get to go out into places like this very often.’

   Doyoung pulled a face. There was nothing to look forward to in the damp, dirty town. ‘We’ll go straight to see my friend. No loitering.’

   Taeyong nodded. He had a little skip in his step. It was annoying.

   Kun had agreed to meet the two of them in a disused stable deep in the town. Doyoung had made it clear that he didn’t want to risk Kun’s safety by bringing someone unfamiliar but unnamed to his home, so they’d decided on somewhere else. He’d also warned Kun against telling him _his_ name, _either_ of their names.

   ‘Your friend works in a stable?’ Taeyong asked curiously as he nodded towards the small, long building.

   ‘Oh he works in all sorts of places.’

   Taeyong just shrugged an ‘okay’ with a smile. There wasn’t a suspicious bone in his body. It was in equal part charming and worrying.

   Doyoung walked Taeyong into the stable, behind him, and glanced around to appraise it. He’d used it before, and it hadn’t changed much. The stalls were empty but clean, and the air musty with the scent of old wood. It was quite dark, but Kun was waiting with two bright lanterns which lit up the far end of the stable in an eerie glow.

   ‘Hello!’ Taeyong said brightly.

   Doyoung lifted down his hood and Taeyong did the same.

   Slowly, Kun looked from him to Doyoung, and his eyes narrowed. ‘He’s - ’

   ‘I’m Taeyong,’ beamed Taeyong. ‘Your friend said you could help me!’

   Kun blinked once, and then dragged his eyes away from Doyoung to look at him instead. ‘I can try,’ he said, and he crossed over quite calmly. ‘ _Idiot_ ,’ he breathed, though, in Doyoung’s ear when they were close enough.

   Doyoung didn’t know whether to apologise or defend himself but he couldn’t do either with Taeyong in the vicinity so he just looked down to conceal his guilt. To his credit, Kun did what he’d promised.

   He talked, pleasantly, to Taeyong. He helped him out of the heavy cloak and rolled up his sleeve and wrapped two panels of leather around his wrist. Taeyong did everything he was told without even speaking. He extended his arm and showed his problem to Kun and when he was asked about it he spoke concisely and openly. It was like he’d put on a character, a mask that maybe he wore around the castle. It wasn’t how he spoke to Doyoung.

   ‘I’ll take this away again tonight,’ said Kun as he experimented with lacing something around Taeyong’s thumb, ‘and you can pick it up tomorrow, _sir_ ,’ he added as if as an afterthought.

   ‘You don’t have to call me that,’ Taeyong answered shyly.

   ‘I’ll pick it up for him,’ said Doyoung. ‘It’s a little risky, bringing him out into the town like this.’

   Kun looked up and met Taeyong’s eyes. ‘I can imagine.’

   ‘Do you think it will work?’ asked Taeyong.

   There was a moment of silence, then Kun shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But it’ll be the best I can make you at such short notice.’

   ‘I brought you this.’ Taeyong fumbled around his cloak for a small pouch that clinked with the promise of coins. ‘For your work.’

   A muscle worked in Kun’s jaw, but he took the bag and constructed a smile. ‘Much obliged, sir.’ Then, he turned to Doyoung. ‘Can I have a word with you outside?’

   Doyoung nodded. ‘I’ll only be a minute,’ he said to Taeyong as the latter collected his cloak.

   He followed Kun outside, slightly unprepared for when Kun gave him a _furious_ shove once they were out on the street and far enough away from the stable to not be heard. ‘Are you _crazy_? What the _hell_ were you thinking?’

   Doyoung raised his hands, but only in defence. ‘I have a deal with him.’

   ‘You’ve done some stupid things, Doyoung, but this? This is the stupidest.’

   ‘Look,’ Doyoung whispered, ‘he’s paying me. Now he’s paying you. And I’m learning things about the Duke’s own residence that I never knew before. It’s not stupid to take advantage of this kind of access.’

   ‘This is dirty money,’ Kun said with a look of disgust. ‘Duke’s money.’

   ‘Yeah, and now it’s ours. That’s what I do, Kun. I take money from the rich and give it to people who deserve it. How is this any different?’

   ‘I can’t believe you’ve involved me in this. When you said I needed to keep your name out of the conversation I figured you were bringing some _guard_ you were working on or something. You should have told me.’

   ‘He doesn’t know who I am. He’ll never know. I’m going to take my gold from him, win that golden arrow, and then I’ll be gone.’

   ‘There’s no way you’ll get away with this.’

   ‘You sound like Johnny.’

   ‘Johnny knows what an idiot you are.’

   ‘I know you all think I’m mad, but have I ever been caught?’ Doyoung snapped. ‘No. Give me some credit.’

   Kun gritted his teeth. ‘Get yourself killed if you want, but from now on you keep me out of it. You can pick up the brace tomorrow, and then you can _go_.’

   ‘Kun I’m sorry. I needed your help.’

   ‘You know I’ll always help you, Doyoung. But next time, you be straight with me from the start, okay?’

   He nodded.

   ‘And you’d better throw some more gold my way once he pays you,’ he muttered.

   Doyoung nodded again.

   ‘If you pull this off, I’ll be impressed,’ Kun sighed. ‘I’ll have the brace done by morning.’

   ‘Thank you.’

   Kun checked his bags and then glanced back at the stable. ‘You’d better go back in there. You don’t want your prince wandering off and getting lost.’

   ‘He’s not a prince,’ said Doyoung, as though that made any difference.

   He watched Kun’s retreating figure in the darkness, and looked down at his feet. Then, knowing that there was a glimmer of truth in Kun’s words, he turned to re-enter the stables.

   It took him a moment to see where Taeyong was, and his heart skipped a beat, but then he saw him. He’d sat down against the wall, and was fiddling with his sleeves.

   ‘Alright,’ Doyoung forced a smile, ‘I can pick up your brace tomorrow. I think it’ll work.’

   Taeyong smiled, but the expression didn’t quite meet his eyes.

   ‘I should get you home.’

   ‘Can’t we stay here? Just for a bit?’ Taeyong whispered.

   ‘Why?’

   ‘I just… don’t get out very much. I spend my whole life locked away in that place.’

   Doyoung wanted to tell him to get up and go, but already his feet were walking him over to his place by the wall, and slowly, he slid down the stonework to join him. ‘Fine.’

   Quiet.

   ‘I used to have horses,’ said Taeyong, after a while. ‘I still do, but I don’t get to tend to them anymore.’

   Why?’ Doyoung asked, like it was the only word he knew.

   ‘Someone told my father that I was _too friendly_ with the stable boy.’

   ‘Were you?’ he questioned with a small smile.   

   Taeyong pulled a face. ‘We were _thirteen_. He was my friend.’

   ‘I guess you haven’t had many friends?’

   Taeyong shook his head. ‘I have Jaehyun. But he’s the only one, really. I know everyone at the castle, all the servants, they all like me I think. But they’re not really _friends_. And it’s been a long time since my father used to let me go to meet other kids. When I was younger, we’d travel out to the country, to their family estates. The physician told him the fresh air would be good for me.’

   Doyoung’s gut twisted nervously at the mention of his childhood visits away. ‘People say you’re sick,’ he said, not thinking about whether it was rude. In the forest you said what you wanted. ‘Or that you were.’

   ‘I was. When I was younger I had these moments where I could barely breathe. I couldn’t play like other kids. And I _got_ sick a lot, anything small, anything that barely touched everyone else would knock me out. It’s not so bad now. I don’t even notice. I can’t remember the last time I fell really unwell.’

   ‘That’s good,’ smiled Doyoung. ‘I’m… glad you’re not sick anymore.’

   There was another silence.

   Kun had taken one of the lanterns with him, so the light was dim, a flicker only from one source.

   ‘You really hate home?’

   ‘Mm.’ Taeyong picked at his neatly shaped nails. ‘Sometimes I think about how it would be if I could run away. Or if I’d never been born here, if I’d been someone else. How much easier it would be.’

   Doyoung laughed and shook his head. ‘You have no idea. It’s not easy, out there. It’s so hard. You don’t… you don’t know what it’s like to be hungry until you’re starving.’

   Taeyong flushed red. ‘I know. I know. I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not… it’s just this picture in my head. I’m not stupid. I know I’m lucky. I _know_. I just… I have to have this dream, this fantasy, because otherwise I’ll never think anything will change and if that was the case I think I’d die from the misery of it.’

   A shot of pain went through Doyoung’s heart. Every instinct, everything he’d learned, told him to hate Taeyong, but there was a fundamental truth that he couldn’t avoid. He’d been a nobleman once, himself. He’d been born into that world too. And he’d chosen to leave it to live out another life. Was it so wrong for Taeyong to dream of the same?

   _It’s different_ , he told himself. Taeyong was older than he’d been and horribly more naïve. He really thought the world outside was nicer than the one he’d been born in. Maybe he had no idea that people starved to death in their homes. Maybe he had no idea that children were arrested for trying to help feed their _parents_.

   Doyoung sighed. He didn’t know what to say. Should he argue? Should he try to console him?

   Neither felt appropriate.

   ‘There are good parts and bad parts,’ he said eventually, trying to think about his own experience. ‘The bad part? Food and money and shelter, they’re scarce. Not like here. Not like in the castle. Every day is a fight just to _survive_.’

   ‘What’s the good part?’ asked Taeyong with wide eyes, as though he didn’t think anything could match up to that terrible revelation.

   ‘Good people,’ said Doyoung, quite simply.

   Taeyong nodded. ‘I don’t think there are many good people at home. I know all about my father; how he treats his people.’

   There was, in that, a glimmer of hope. The hope that had caught Doyoung up in this situation in the first place.

   _Taeyong wasn’t like the rest of them._

   Doyoung turned to say something, dig deeper, but Taeyong was already looked at him, and their eyes met. All the stars in the night sky could fit in the irises of Taeyong’s eyes; deep and warm and open.

   Then, before he found words, Taeyong leant forwards and –

   - and he kissed him.

   Doyoung pulled back on a slight delay, hovering long enough that he felt the brush of gentle, soft lips against his. Taeyong kissed the way he treated everything else: with a delicate, precisely directed touch, but with a waver that betrayed his nerves. It was just like how he held a bow.

   That was what Doyoung registered before he reeled away, almost falling sideways in his haste.

   ‘I’m sorry,’ Taeyong gasped. ‘I’m sorry I’m sorry.’

   Doyoung stared at him, swallowing rapidly. His heart was pounding.

   ‘I’m sorry I don’t know what I was thinking. I don’t get to open up much and I just – I just felt – I didn’t mean - ’

   Doyoung put up a hand to stop him. ‘It’s fine,’ he said as he tried to slow the race of his heart. ‘Just – just don’t - ’

   ‘I’m sorry.’

   He swallowed again, dragging in air. Taeyong had been too open, he’d made himself vulnerable, and that was why it had happened. He was right. It didn’t mean anything. ‘Let’s – let’s just go,’ he said.

   There was nothing that Doyoung wanted more than to run away, run away from the ridiculous situation that he’d created for himself. But he couldn’t. For one thing, he needed to get Taeyong home safe.

   Safe.

   He’d never once thought about a nobleman’s _safety_ before.   

   Kun was right: he’d done some stupid things, but this? This really was the stupidest.

   ‘Let’s get you back home,’ repeated Doyoung. He worked hard to keep his voice steady. ‘Jaehyun will kill me if I bring you back too late.’

   ‘Will you tell me your name?’ Taeyong whispered. In the empty, abandoned room, it sounded more than a whisper. His eyes were wide with earnest. It was a strange question, not appropriate for the moment in which it was voiced.

   ‘No,’ said Doyoung. ‘No, I won’t.’

   Taeyong looked down. ‘Okay. I understand.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/puffyong_)


	4. Chapter 4

   ‘Breathe,’ Doyoung reminded him, and Taeyong stood a little more upright and inhaled deeply. It was the evening before the first full round of the tourney, and the nerves were starting to become active enough that Doyoung could finally get a proper, up-close look at how Taeyong moved when he was truly anxious. ‘You’re putting all the blame on your hand but the rest of your body is just as bad.’

   Taeyong stuck his bottom lip out as if affronted but he didn’t argue.

   ‘Your shoulders come up, they’re way too tight. You forget to breathe. Your whole body is rigid.’

   ‘It’s difficult with you breathing down my neck,’ said Taeyong in a voice that bordered on a whine.

   Doyoung scoffed. ‘Well there’s going to be hundreds of people breathing down your neck tomorrow, so you’d better get used to it.’

   ‘I know,’ Taeyong mumbled.

   He took several steadying breaths and then released his arrow. It wasn’t perfect, but it wasn’t terrible either. Doyoung watched the way that his arm moved. Kun had done an excellent job. The brace was firm in its hold but flexible enough that his wrist and hand remained loose.

   ‘Again.’

   Every practice session that they had went a lot like this.

   Taeyong got tired easily, Doyoung noticed, though he said that his body was in the best shape it had ever been. Doyoung was working to find a balance, somewhere between pushing him past his limits but not so far that he exhausted himself. He didn’t want him to give up too soon.

   ‘What if I panic tomorrow?’

   Doyoung sighed. ‘I want you to visualise all this, okay? I want you to have a clear image in your mind of everything we’ve done in this courtyard. Your muscles will remember, they’ll do the work for you, so long as you keep that image in your head. Don’t think about what could happen, what the reality is if you succeed or fail, just focus in on the task itself. You’re a good archer. Very good.’

   ‘You know you said you’re a soldier?’

   ‘Mm?’

   ‘Are you good with other weapons?’

   ‘You’re getting distracted,’ said Doyoung, but he wanted to laugh.

   ‘Sorry,’ Taeyong mumbled. He notched another arrow. ‘But - ’

   ‘I’m okay,’ said Doyoung. ‘I’m pretty decent with a crossbow but that shouldn’t be a surprise. I’m competent with a sword. I’m not really into lances.’

   Taeyong released his arrow, and Doyoung whipped his head to the side to watch its trajectory. It struck the centre circle with splintering pace. He raised his eyebrows.

   ‘See I’m good when I’m distracted,’ breathed Taeyong. ‘It’s when I get all stuck in my head that the problem starts.’

   Doyoung looked at him with interest. ‘Okay. That’s a development.’

   He preferred complete focus himself. Distraction wasn’t a problem for him, per-se, he was well trained enough to ignore it, but in an ideal scenario he would prefer to shoot in silence, preferably at a fixed target.

   Taeyong drew another arrow. He seemed upbeat, the most relaxed he’d been that evening. ‘I didn’t have you down as a lance sort of guy, so I’m not surprised. I’d like to see you with a sword, though. I bet you’re better than competent.’

   Doyoung’s lips twitched up into a smile. It wasn’t that far from the truth. His ideas of competency and brilliance were a little swayed by his ability with a bow. Anything less than that perfection seemed frustrating. But he supposed that compared to the average king’s guard or soldier or outlaw, he wasn’t too bad with a sword either. ‘Maybe.’

   ‘My father had me taught swordsmanship when I was younger,’ said Taeyong. ‘I didn’t have to do too many lessons because it was more important for my big brother to learn, but I did some. I was terrible at it. And I hated it which didn’t help.’

   Doyoung looked up and down Taeyong’s slender form. Swords were _heavy_. He wasn’t surprised that Taeyong’s skinny arms would struggle to properly wield one. ‘What didn’t you like about it?’ he asked unnecessarily.

   ‘It lacked finesse,’ mused Taeyong. ‘With a bow I feel like there’s this _art_ to it. It’s very fine, precise. With a sword I just felt like I was launching myself about wherever my weight took me.’

   Doyoung cocked his head to the side and took a moment to move Taeyong’s elbow an inch into position. ‘There’s an art to swordsmanship too. Maybe not the way they teach it here, but I’ve travelled a lot around the land and there are people who treat it with the delicacy of illuminators.’

   ‘You’ve travelled? Oh I’m _envious_. I’d love to be able to go places. My father never lets me go anywhere anymore. Tell me about all the places.’

   Doyoung opened his mouth, then closed it. He really shouldn’t give too much about himself away. It wasn’t that unbelievable for a soldier to have travelled though. ‘I’ve been very far north, so far that people spoke another language. And I’ve been very far south, to the coast.’

   It was true. When he had very first fled and had been unsure where to build his new life, and in what form, he’d hitched rides on carts anywhere that he could. On his way, he had hunted down every man or woman skilled with a weapon or indeed with anything else that he could make use of, and he had learned.

   Sometimes his friends called his ability a gift birthed to him, but he had trained, too. In his mind, it was a combination of both.

   ‘You remember I told you that my father used to take me to the country estates?’

   ‘Yes.’ Doyoung’s stomach flipped. Every time that Taeyong strayed into this territory, it unsettled him. The place they had first met.

   ‘I used to love that. It wasn’t by the sea or even so far from home here, but it was somewhere _different_. I met new people and I got to have food that wasn’t from the same cooks I’ve always had. I’d love to go somewhere new.’

   ‘Maybe one day,’ said Doyoung, quietly.

   Taeyong shook his head. ‘I think I’m stuck here forever.’

   ‘You’re never stuck. It can feel like it, but you’d be shocked at how quickly your life can change.’

   ‘Did _yours_ change, then? I mean were you not always a soldier?’

   Doyoung laughed and nudged Taeyong’s arm. ‘I know you said that you shoot better distracted, but right now you’re not even trying.’

   Taeyong huffed and looked back at the target.

   They were becoming all too common, these moments. Doyoung kept forgetting what he was here for: to win the golden arrow, and to get anything else that he could from Taeyong. When they were out in the training grounds, he kept finding himself laughing. Sometimes, he found himself wanting to ask Taeyong questions that had nothing to do with archery.

*

   Doyoung kept his head low as he passed through the crowd. For the last few minutes, his thumb had been digging nervously into a chip in the grip of his bow. It was rare for him to feel anxious before any kind of competition – there was nobody who could match his skill with a bow across the entire land. But today he had so much more to worry about. He had to worry about not being recognised. And he had to worry about _him_.

   Mostly, he was worrying about him.

   If Taeyong did badly, then he would not qualify for the next round. If he did not qualify for the next round, then Doyoung would lose his tidy source of extra silver. And Taeyong would be devastated.

   One was more important than the other, but Doyoung didn’t like to dwell on which.

   He held out his tag with his registration number at the desk, and looked around. He wasn’t sure when Taeyong would emerge to take his turn. It was not like he would loiter in the yard until it was time. Doyoung was resigned to spending the entire day there, because he would not risk missing Taeyong. He had gone early himself, when there would be less people around to watch him shoot.

   Johnny and Kun’s words of warning that Doyoung liked to show off a little too much were true, but he wasn’t stupid. This was the first official round outside of the preliminaries, and there would be a lot of people showing up to watch. If he was going to show off, though, then it would be at the final, not today.

   He posted a respectable 8-8-10, just where he wanted them to ensure his place in quiet security, as soon as the organisers would allow him his turn, and then ducked away with immediacy. For the rest of the day, he decided to place himself at a short distance away where he could observe the goings-on without being noticed.

   He stood in the shade of an overhang, watching, waiting.

   There were some better entries today then he had seen at the preliminaries, and he knew that as the rounds progressed, first to the second and then to the final, that the competition would become a much higher class. None of them would threaten him. But he had Taeyong to think about, and unless he got his nerves under control, he had no chance of beating some of these guys.

   Doyoung eyed one man that took his chance in the mid-morning.

   He frowned, edging back further under the cover. It was someone that he knew, a nobleman from the next town over. It was someone, in fact, that he had robbed on a highway not three or so weeks earlier. He’d had his mask on then, of course, but his presence still unsettled him.

   He was a very good shot. Not as good as Doyoung, but very good.

   The gathering crowd roared in support of him.

   Doyoung bit his lip nervously. He didn’t want Taeyong to have to follow that, and he was relieved when at least two more participants followed with distinctly less success.

   Then, however, Taeyong emerged.

   Doyoung stepped forwards, closer, as he watched him appear from one of the long stone passages of the maze that made up the castle. He had three guards with him, plus Jaehyun, but it was only Jaehyun with whom he was speaking. That was good. As part of his training – not that Doyoung had mentioned it to Taeyong _himself_ – he had given Jaehyun strict instructions of how to keep him calm and relaxed on the day.

   The crowd changed with his arrival.

   Some people cheered, just excited to see one of the Duke’s family in their midst. That made Doyoung pull a face – he’d never understood how people could be talked into loving the people who lorded over them, who they didn’t even _know_ , for no reason other than their name. Some people muttered to each other, in suspicion or in excitement or in suspense, the sound blurring into one tone. Some people jeered, though they shut up quickly. Presumably, the guards did not take well to the sort of thing, and one callous joke wasn’t worth a night in the dungeon.

   Doyoung took another step closer.

   Of course Taeyong would not have to wait in line, he was pushed straight to the front.

   He looked nervous, far too nervous to be heeding any of Doyoung’s teachings. His hand, even from the distance, was shaking.

   ‘That wasn’t the plan,’ Doyoung muttered under his breath.

   He seemed to take a very long time to line up to take his first shot, so long that the people watching were starting to grow restless. The murmurings started up again, breaking the silence that had fallen. Doyoung hoped that would be a help to him, rather than a hindrance.

   A _distraction_.

   Doyoung looked around. No one was paying him the slightest bit of attention, including all the guards. They were all waiting for what would become of the Duke’s son.

   With a deep breath, Doyoung slipped his bow off his shoulder and notched an arrow. It only took a glance around for him to decide where to target. Far overhead, there was a bronze bell. It was there to be rung on market days to announce the beginning and end of business, but today it would be far more useful.

   Doyoung narrowed his eyes, slowed his breath, and released one arrow up at its body. The metal arrowhead glanced off the side with enough of a clang that people started to turn in surprise. Several guards snapped out of their stupor and span around in search of the source, but Doyoung had already slipped into a new position away from the scene of the crime.

   Amidst the resulting confusion, Taeyong fired his first arrow.

   _Nine._

   Doyoung exhaled in relief.

   That was all Taeyong needed. Just a little help. He just needed a moment when everyone wasn’t _staring_ at him. And one good score would give him _confidence_. Or at least Doyoung hoped that it would.

   Once the disgruntled audience turned back to him, he had already notched his second arrow.

   Doyoung eyed the smooth black leather of the brace. He saw the tremor. He watched the line of the arrow as it raced through the air and struck one of the middle-scoring rings.

   That wasn’t bad.

   This was, at the very least, a definite improvement on his first attempt at the preliminaries. He hadn’t missed the target entirely, yet.

   With the pressure greater now, Taeyong fluffed his last shot, and it lodged itself in the very outer ring, and Doyoung exhaled a breath that he seemed to have been holding for a long time.

   Three arrows on the board, three scores. One very good score. It would be enough to qualify him for the second round.

   Doyoung prepared to slide away as soon as possible, but as he went, he looked back across at where Taeyong and hurried into step beside Jaehyun. He was looking over his shoulder. Their eyes met for a fleeting second and Taeyong gave him a small smile.

   Doyoung was the one to look away.

*

   ‘I know what you did.’

   ‘Do you?’

   They were walking around the deserted training grounds, late into the evening. Darkness had already settled over the courtyard, and in the distance there was a muted sound of joviality from the distant drinking houses. Doyoung was, at last, permitted to be alone with Taeyong here. There was only one entrance and exit, and Jaehyun hovered around it, but they could walk around at peace, away even from his prying eyes.

   Evidently, Taeyong’s performance at the first official round today had earned Doyoung that privilege.

   ‘You shot that bell to distract everyone.’

   ‘Did I?’

   Taeyong playfully bumped into his shoulder. ‘I _know_ you did.’

   Doyoung swung off course, knocked just to the left, before realigning with him as they walked. ‘I hope you didn’t mind.’

   ‘No,’ Taeyong shook his head, ‘it helped. I wanted to thank you.’

   ‘I won’t be doing it again,’ said Doyoung. ‘The guards would have had a thing or two to say if they’d seen me do it. I just wanted to show you that you _can_ do it when everyone is there. You just have to imagine that they’re not all watching you.’

   ‘My second two shots weren’t great,’ he mused.

   ‘No, but they were better than at the preliminaries. I warned you when we started that we didn’t have a lot of time, but we’ve made a lot of progress since the prelims. Now we’ll train again tomorrow ready for the second round and you’ll be better for that too. And by the finals you’ll be better yet.’

   ‘I just want to get there. If I can just get to the last day then I won’t be a laughing stock. I know I’m not going to _win_ , but - ’

   ‘Don’t speak too soon,’ he shrugged.

   ‘But _you’re_ going to win,’ said Taeyong like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

   ‘Oh, oh yeah,’ laughed Doyoung. ‘I forgot.’

   He laughed a lot with Taeyong. It was reaching a critical point. He wasn’t sure he laughed this much out in the forest. Talking to him was easy, not at all like speaking to any other nobleman. Taeyong was funny, softly-spoken but actually quite sharp in his perceptions. And even his naivety had grown to become oddly appealing. There was something refreshing about talking to someone who wasn’t as cynical as him.

   ‘I don’t want the tournament to end,’ Taeyong sighed.

   ‘Really?’

   He stopped. ‘I’m having so much fun. And once the tourney is over, you’ll go, and we’ll never see each other again.’

   Doyoung looked into his eyes. It was dark, but they glimmered in the moonlight. They always managed to shine, as though they did so all by themselves. ‘Maybe I’ll come back next year.’

   ‘I don’t want to wait until next year.’

   Doyoung, like always, couldn’t help himself. This had been a barrier that he’d refused to cross, in spite of everything else that he did rashly in his life. He’d been sure that he wasn’t _that_ stupid. It was the one thing that he _could not_ allow himself to feel.

   But he couldn’t help himself.

   ‘No,’ he looked down, ‘no, me neither.’

   There it was, spoken aloud plain as day. They both knew what it meant.

   ‘Maybe you could stay with me,’ whispered Taeyong.

   ‘No I couldn’t.’

   ‘Why not?’ he pressed.

   ‘Because I would get into a terrible amount of trouble, Taeyong.’

   He didn’t call him by his name all that often. He called him any number of titles, however much Taeyong protested, because that was how a soldier would address the duke’s son. But sometimes it slipped out. There were no titles in the forest, after all.

   ‘You _wouldn’t_ ,’ Taeyong pressed. ‘No one even recognises you here.’

   Well that was thankfully true, even if it wasn’t for the reasons that Taeyong thought. ‘But if someone did, I’d be in serious trouble.’

   ‘I’d protect you.’

   ‘You might be the duke’s son, but given that he stopped you seeing your horses because you were _friends_ with a stable boy, I doubt you’d be able to wield that power to keep me around.’

   ‘That was years ago. He wouldn’t care. He doesn’t care anymore. I swear. He’d be glad for something to keep me occupied. Trust me, he’s given up on me.’

   Doyoung sighed. He lifted a hand and brushed his fingers across Taeyong’s cheek. He really was everything that people said he was: painfully beautiful. Taeyong tilted his face towards the touch as if involuntarily, like he’d been craving some kind of softness for a very long time. ‘You’re sweet, Taeyong, but it can never happen.’

   Taeyong’s gaze flickered back to him, and there was a fight in his eyes that Doyoung hadn’t seen before.

   It was attractive.

   ‘Well you’re - ’ Taeyong began, but Doyoung had already given in.

   He’d given in to the impulsive side of himself that everyone kept warning him about.

   He caught Taeyong’s lips in a kiss, taking whatever he was going to say and turning it into passion. He wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him close, with speed, because this needed to be fast. If they were seen…

   It wasn’t slow and romantic or even gentle.

   In a way, Doyoung wanted to convey exactly what he _was_. Rough, ready, not at all delicate like Taeyong. He wanted him to know that truth. Maybe a part of him hoped that it would scare him away before this went any further.

   But Taeyong just turned pliant in his hold, body curving in against him like it was moulded that way, and one hand rested over Doyoung’s heart, taking a grip on his shirt.

   Doyoung bit lightly at his lower lip, making Taeyong part his lips with a gasp, and that allowed him to kiss him properly. He put everything he had into it, because this would be the only – the _last_ – time that they ever did this. And then when he was ready to tear open Taeyong’s pristine white shirt because god knows he wanted him, he pulled back.

   That was a line he would not cross.

   Even _he_ knew his limits.

   Taeyong was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling in a way that made Doyoung want to do _more_. Then, though, he started up again like nothing had happened. ‘ _But -_ ’

   Doyoung turned away. ‘It can never happen,’ he repeated, and he started back on his march around the courtyard, maybe with a little more hostility to the ground than before. Taeyong had to skip to keep up with him. 

   ‘Yes it - ’

   ‘Taeyong?’

   ‘Yes?’

   ‘Stop talking.’

   ‘Okay.’

   They walked again, like nothing had changed.

   Except they both knew that it had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/puffyong_)


	5. Chapter 5

   ‘How is he doing?’

   Doyoung shrugged and picked at a chip in the woodwork of Kun’s workbench. He was sat atop it, relieved to be invited back even after their argument, because with the rest of his friends in the forest, Kun was the only person to whom he could talk about this. Luckily, Kun was a curious as Doyoung was reckless, and evidently could not help himself. ‘He’s getting better, I think. I don’t know if he’s good enough to get through to the finals, but it’s an improvement.’

   Kun handed him a bowl of some sort of stew that had a distinctly more pleasant aroma than anything Doyoung had eaten at the inn where he was staying. ‘And you’re sure your position is safe? You’re playing with fire, Doyoung.’

   ‘I know,’ he sighed. ‘But no one around here has seen my face for years, not while I’m playing outlaw, anyway. If anyone recognised me, they’d have picked me up by now. I’ve been strolling around the castle courtyard like it’s nothing.’

   ‘But they’ll all know you at the finals – when they see how you shoot when you really _try_.’

   Doyoung chewed at his inner lip, a persistent tug with his canines. There was a part of him that knew Kun was probably right. He _couldn’t_ stop himself, sometimes. He wasn’t stupid, though, and he hoped that he had enough of a brain in his skull to keep himself toeing the line.

   Then he thought of the nobleman that he’d watched compete just before Taeyong, the one that only weeks ago he’d been glad to leave roped to a tree while he robbed the golden carriage, the one that lorded with an iron fist over the people of his holding. And Doyoung knew he wouldn’t have the grit to let someone like that win. ‘I’ll deal with that problem when it arrives,’ he said quietly.

   ‘Doyoung, let me tell you this: the people of this land need you more than you need that golden arrow.’

   _Yes_ , he knew that was true.

   ‘I know you want it. I know you’re competitive. I know it’s gold that could feed a lot of people. But it’s not worth dying for. The people who need you would rather have you back out in the forest than strung up from the parapets.’

   ‘I know.’

   ‘Unless it isn’t about that anymore?’ Kun caught his eye with a keen gaze that Doyoung found far too investigative, so he looked down quickly at his bowl.

   The stew really was very good. It seemed to fill his stomach more than what he had been eating the last few days; and it filled him with _warmth,_ too. It reminded him of the meals that they all ate together out in the forest. Even just a few days into life in the city, he missed his friends. The time since they had last talked, or _argued_ , felt like a lifetime in distance. ‘It’s not about him,’ said Doyoung.

   Kun tapped his fingers on the bench. ‘I’m not saying it is,’ he lifted his hands then, as if to protest innocence, ‘but let’s just talk in hypotheticals. Let’s just say that if it _was_ something to do with him, then… then I would advise you to think long and hard about what you’re willing to give up. For a prince.’

   ‘He’s not a prince,’ said Doyoung, for the second time. But he didn’t argue the rest.

*

   ‘Okay, okay, I am _definitely_ better at some things though!’ Taeyong said brightly, far too brightly for someone who was responding to a statement of particular derision from Doyoung. ‘I bet you can’t fix clothes. I’m excellent with a needle. My father said they shouldn’t teach boys that kind of thing but my mother showed me how. I like it, actually.’

   Doyoung shrugged. ‘I can fix clothes too.’ It was true. In the forest, all work was everyone’s work. He’d learned many skills.

   ‘How about painting? My old tutor brings me inks and paints and I’m very good at that. He says that if I wasn’t the Duke’s son, I could have been an illuminator.’

   At that, Doyoung looked up with a little more interest. ‘Really?’

   ‘Oh yes. I love it. I like to read but creating the picture is even better. I used to paint all of the stories that we read together, now I paint my own too.’

   ‘I learn something new about you every day,’ said Doyoung, a little impressed.

   ‘Do you like stories?’ asked Taeyong, and then his voice faltered. ‘Like… like to read?’

   Doyoung raised his eyebrows. Full literacy was uncommon outside of the ruling class. But unbeknownst to Taeyong, Doyoung had been raised with a tutor too. ‘I – yes. I can read, if that’s what you’re asking. And yes, I do like stories. I like them spoken aloud more, though.’

   ‘Like with the voices for different characters?’ said Taeyong excitedly.

   ‘I was thinking more… the way that they change, every time. If my friend tells me a story, around a fire at night, and I remember the story, then I might tell it another time, to another friend, only when I tell it there will be subtle differences. I can’t remember it word for word, so the story changes in little ways. Only small details. But it’s as if the story is _alive_ , constantly growing, developing through coming into contact with different people. Then that friend tells the story to someone else and it changes again.’

   Taeyong looked at him with wide eyes. ‘You’re very smart.’

   Doyoung rolled his eyes and ignored that.

   They were almost back to Taeyong’s quarters, the small tower hidden away amongst the fortress of walls that defended those of the highest security. ‘Come with me,’ said Taeyong, ‘I’ll show you some of my pictures.’

   Doyoung wanted to refuse, but he also didn’t.

   ‘ _Please_.’ Taeyong had this expression whenever he said that word and it was difficult to deny him.

   ‘Fine,’ he shrugged.

   ‘Will you wait outside?’ Taeyong asked Jaehyun, who was always only a few paces behind them. He was like Taeyong’s shadow. It drove Doyoung crazy.

   ‘Will you be safe?’

   ‘Of course,’ said Taeyong, without a hint of hesitation.

   He trusted him too much. It frustrated Doyoung. He wanted to catch him by the shoulders and shake him and tell him that people out there would lie to him, that his position meant people were even _more_ likely to target him. Maybe, though, that would require him to say that he was doing that very thing, and he was not going to have _that_ conversation with Taeyong.

   Jaehyun guarded the external door of the tower, while Taeyong grabbed at Doyoung’s hand and pulled him inside.

   Doyoung was quick to extricate his hand, but Taeyong didn’t seem bothered. He was scaling the steps already, taking two at a time in excitement. Most of the tower seemed to be steps. There were a couple of doors that led off the spiralling structure, but Doyoung knew that Taeyong’s would be at the very top.

   ‘They really do keep you locked in a tower,’ commented Doyoung.

   ‘I like it,’ Taeyong responded in a quiet voice, ‘it’s far away from my father. It’s far away from most things. That room there, that’s where Jaehyun sleeps,’ he nodded to one of the doors they passed.

   A small smile crept onto Doyoung’s face. ‘Can I ask you something?’

   ‘Sure.’

   ‘You and Jaehyun… He’s very protective of you. Have the two of you ever…?’

   Taeyong turned, and then his face flushed red when he realised what he was insinuating. ‘Jaehyun? Oh no, _no_. He’s like my brother. We would _never_.’

   Doyoung wished that he didn’t feel a possessive flurry of relief in the pit of his stomach at that answer. ‘Right.’

   ‘Why do you ask?’ said Taeyong, with an expression that bordered on a smirk as he stopped by the door at the top of the tower that could only lead to his room.

   ‘Just wondering. He watches you like a hawk.’

   Taeyong opened the door and stepped aside to allow Doyoung past. ‘Jaehyun is very good at his job. And he cares about me very much.’

   There was so much to take in that Doyoung had to keep his eyes moving just to prevent himself from staring too obviously. The room was surprisingly small for someone who was part of the ruling family, and it was kept in pristine order. The whole room was round, which meant the furniture stood awkwardly, but in a way it gave a cosy impression, like everything was pointed to the centre.

   The bed was very large, and covered with all manner of furs and blankets for whatever the weather might demand. There was a desk, at which Taeyong clearly did most things because it was stacked up high with books and ink pots and a variety of smaller objects that Doyoung couldn’t identify if he was to keep his perusal quick. There was a chair beside the narrow window, and two low chests that he guessed were filled with clothes.

   ‘Over here,’ said Taeyong. He shut the door behind them. There was a nervous hint in his voice now. Perhaps he was shy about having Doyoung in his personal space.

   _So this is where he sleeps every night_ , thought Doyoung, glancing at the bed again. It wasn’t the forest, but it wasn’t grand and stately either. In fact, it was quite… normal.

   On the desk, Taeyong fumbled with his sheets of rough parchment, and started to lay out some of them to look at. Doyoung leant close, examining the pictures he’d drawn. He was as good as he’d claimed. Better, maybe. He drew people, lots of people, with delicate brush strokes and fine lines to define shapes. Animals, too, and whole scenes of places that Doyoung knew he’d probably never visited.

   ‘They’re good,’ he murmured. His fingers touched deftly over the corner of one of the pages, like he needed to feel the picture to be a part of it. ‘I recognise this story,’ he said. The scene showed a woman at a loom, with a child at her feet playing with a small animal. ‘She weaves clothes for her children and for the animals but she never has time to weave them for herself.’

   ‘My mother told me that story when I was a child,’ said Taeyong softly.

   Doyoung thought back to a memory so distant that it took him a moment to feel around for it in his mind. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘my mother told it to me too.’ He put down the picture, then looked back at Taeyong. He didn’t enjoy memories of his family. ‘You could have a future in this.’

   ‘I have no future,’ shrugged Taeyong, but he didn’t look hurt. ‘I’ll live and die in this place.’

   Doyoung took a slow breath. Something inside him ached. He brushed his hand through Taeyong’s hair, before he could stop himself, and he let it linger there until Taeyong rested his cheek against it. ‘Don’t think like that,’ said Doyoung.

   Taeyong leant forwards, and Doyoung thought that he was going to kiss him again, but instead he buried his face in his neck, breath hot across the hollow of his throat.

   Doyoung squeezed his eyes shut. ‘Taeyong, you… you’re a problem for me,’ he exhaled, through his teeth. ‘You’re… I can’t stop - ’

   Taeyong pulled back. ‘Don’t stop,’ he whispered, ‘and don’t talk.’

   _Stupid. Reckless. Impulsive._

That was Doyoung.

   He took Taeyong’s face into his hands and kissed him. Again. Something that was becoming a terrible habit. This time, though, it was less fervent. He concentrated. He _thought_ about it, and he supposed that meant he wasn’t so impulsive anymore. _Stupider_ , maybe, if he was thinking and still doing.

   _Stupid_ was what he thought, as he buried one hand into Taeyong’s hair and drew him close with the other at the small of his back. He parted his lips, let his tongue touch over Taeyong’s in intimacy rather than lust, and he felt whatever restraint he’d had left break without any bend, brittle and unrepairable.

   He turned them both, because he was stronger than Taeyong. He propelled him back, towards the bed, when he could push him down and pull free the ties at the neck of his shirt. Taeyong let him, his eyes falling closed, and Doyoung kissed at his jaw, his neck, his chest, anywhere that he hadn’t touched properly before.

   ‘Do it,’ Taeyong exhaled, ‘please. Please.’

   Every time he said that word…

   Doyoung was helpless. He worked loose the laces at Taeyong’s belt, and palmed over him until he was throwing his head back against the bed with a low, demanding sort of moan.

   _God_ he wanted him.

   His whole body was lit up with desire.

   But he stopped. He stilled his hand. He rested his forehead against Taeyong’s chest and just stopped for a moment.

   ‘I can’t,’ he said, and the words cost all of the effort in the world. ‘I can’t.’

   He sat back.

   He couldn’t do this, not when he was lying to him.

   He wouldn’t take that from Taeyong.

   ‘Don’t stop,’ choked Taeyong. His breath was coming rapidly, his hands reaching out for Doyoung again, but Doyoung took a step back, away from the bed.

   ‘I can’t do this.’

   ‘Why not?’ There was a plea in Taeyong’s voice.

   ‘Because I’m – because I’ve lied to you. I’m not going to do this in a lie. It wouldn’t be fair.’

   Taeyong met his eyes. He really was too beautiful. ‘Doyoung _please_ ,’ he whispered.

   It took a moment for the words to register, for his _name_ to register coming from Taeyong’s lips at last.

   Then, Doyoung took three more steps back.

   His stomach turned over, and desire turned to fear in his navel. It was amazing how closely the two aligned in their bodily response. His heart thudded at the same pace, his palms sweated, his skin felt red hot, but it was nothing to do with arousal. ‘You - ’

   ‘Doyoung I _know_ ,’ said Taeyong, and there was shame on his face. Shame and pain and desperation.

   ‘When? _When_?’

   ‘I knew the moment I saw you,’ he said, the words tumbling out over each other. ‘I knew you the second I saw you fire an arrow. I’ve heard all the stories and I remember your face. I remember you. We met when we were kids.’

   ‘How – how could you?’ Doyoung choked out. ‘I barely remember you, it’s all hazy and - ’

   ‘I’m older than you,’ whispered Taeyong. ‘By a couple of years. I’m sure I remember your face better than you remembered mine.’

   Doyoung ran his hands into his hair. _Panic_ , for the first time since he’d re-entered the town, he felt panic. ‘You knew this whole time? You lied to me?’

   ‘No more than you lied to me!’

   Well that was true. Doyoung could hardly be defensive now. All of this was his fault. His fault for his stupidity. He’d lied to Taeyong, been happy to manipulate him, so how could he possibly hate him for keeping this from him too? ‘What is this?’ he said instead, swallowing down his fear because Doyoung wasn’t scared of noblemen. ‘A trap? I mean there’s only one way out of here, right? Is Jaehyun going to come up here and arrest me?’

   ‘No,’ Taeyong said quickly, climbing off the bed and taking a step towards him but Doyoung backed up even further. ‘No, oh _god_ no, Doyoung. I haven’t told anyone, I swear. I’m not going to tell anyone. I would never. I – you have to believe me. _Please_.’

   ‘Why? Why wouldn’t you have told anyone?’ Doyoung edged closer to the door. He’d rather take his chances with Jaehyun than the entire town guard, so time was of the essence.

   ‘Because I like you,’ whispered Taeyong. ‘I like you. You’re my friend. You’re… I’m not one of _them_ , Doyoung. I’m not like my father. If I could live out in the forest like you do then I _would_ , I - ’

   ‘Don’t even go there,’ snapped Doyoung. ‘You are one of them. You are absolutely one of them.’

   ‘Why? Because I was born this way? You were too, Doyoung! I remember you wearing all the same finery as me. The only difference is that _you_ escaped.’

   Doyoung swallowed. He couldn’t find anger, even though it was the emotion he was searching around for. ‘Taeyong…’ he started. He could see it in his eyes that he wasn’t lying. But it didn’t make a difference.

   Johnny was right. Kun was right. His stupidity was going to get him killed.

   ‘Don’t go,’ said Taeyong, and a tear broke out from the corner of his eye. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you. But I knew you’d run as soon as you found out that I knew and… and I couldn’t bear to lose you. These last few days have been the best of my life. And I don’t _get_ many good days. Please, please don’t go.’

   Doyoung took a shaky breath, and then his shoulders settled an inch.

   It was only Taeyong.

   Taeyong knew, but it was only Taeyong.

   He wasn’t going to be killed on the spot.

   ‘Don’t go,’ Taeyong repeated.

   Doyoung, though, had already made up his mind. He didn’t need to hear it again.

   With weary legs, like he’d run the length of the land, he crossed back over to Taeyong. He stood almost intimidatingly close, so that Taeyong quickly dropped back onto the bed and drew his knees up to his chest.

   Doyoung crouched by the bed until he was closer to his level, and let his head fall into his hands. ‘You’re dangerous, Taeyong, you have no idea how dangerous you are for me.’

   ‘I told you I’d protect you,’ he said. ‘I told you I’d protect you if you got into trouble here.’

   Doyoung laughed. The sound was hollow. ‘Your father wants my head on a spike, and there’s nothing you would be able to do to stop him.’

   ‘I’m not as useless as you think I am.’

   Doyoung shook his head. ‘I wish I didn’t find your naivety so appealing,’ he sighed. ‘But still, I don’t think you’re useless.’

   There was a silence, a silence in which reality crashed around Doyoung’s skull like a drum. He had to leave. This situation had gone from reckless to downright outrageous. He could not stay here, now, not when the Duke’s own _son_ knew exactly who he was.

   ‘I have to go,’ he said, though his voice strained.

   ‘Take me with you.’

   ‘No.’

   ‘I’ll be useful I swear! I can do lots of stuff.’

   ‘Painting doesn’t help me in the forest.’

   Taeyong swallowed. He looked hurt. ‘Other stuff. I can do other stuff too. Please.’

   ‘You’re sickly, you wouldn’t last out there.’

   ‘I _would_! I’m not sick anymore, I’m _fine_. I’m not the kid I was when we met.’

   Doyoung closed his eyes. He thought of who they had been then, two sons of nobility searching for friendship when every other turn led only to dishonesty. Children. Now they were here – adults, opposites, as opposite as it was possible to be. But maybe, just maybe, two sides to the same coin. They wanted the same thing…

   He kicked that thought away. He would not entertain an even more ridiculous idea.

   ‘I can’t, Taeyong. Imagine the hellfire your father would rain down upon the forest if he knew I’d taken you.’

   ‘You help everyone else,’ Taeyong cried, ‘you help _everyone_. You free prisoners and help the poor and you don’t care that my father puts a death warrant on your head for it! Why is it so different when it’s me?’

   Doyoung stared.

   It wasn’t the worst argument in the world.

   Evidently, because he was searching for a retort that he couldn’t find.

   Taeyong was right. He’d given up his life to helping others, however high the reward had become for the provision of his body, so Taeyong ought to be no different. He wasn’t supposed to be _scared_.

   He kneaded his eyes, his forehead. ‘I don’t – I need to think. I need time to think.’

   ‘Think here,’ said Taeyong. He reached out for him.

   ‘I can’t stay any longer. Your Jaehyun will be coming up here to check I haven’t killed you soon. I’ve stayed long enough.’

   ‘He knows I like you. He won’t come up here. He knows… he knows how I… how I feel. I told him not to come up here.’

   ‘I don’t know what’s worse,’ Doyoung groaned, ‘him thinking I’m killing you or him thinking I’m… okay, I’m not even going to think about that.’

   Taeyong bit his lip with a shy smile. ‘Stay with me today. Now. Tonight. Stay. If you’re going to leave then just give me one night. Please. Outside of this room nothing has changed. No one knows you. Tomorrow you can go to the forest if you really want to. But stay with me now. It’ll give you time to think.’

   ‘How am I supposed to think rationally with you here?’

   Taeyong looked a mess, clothes askew from earlier and two tears marring his cheeks, and hair more chaotic than he’d ever seen it. ‘What if I don’t want you to think rationally? How about very _irrationally_? You’re more likely to take me with you that way.’

   ‘Yes,’ Doyoung sighed, ‘yes I am.’

   _It’s not about him_ , Doyoung had said to Kun.

   That was ridiculous.

   Of course it was about him.

   It had been about him from the moment he’d seen him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/puffyong_)


	6. Chapter 6

   Restraint had never been Doyoung’s strong point.

   He held Taeyong against him and ran his fingers into his hair. Taeyong was asleep, nuzzling at his neck, one arm thrown across Doyoung’s stomach like he could keep him there that way. Everything about Taeyong was easy to hold; he was extremely slender, and distinctly malleable while he slept – he seemed to mould like liquid whenever Doyoung adjusted his position. He slept deeply, too, undisturbed by any movement. Doyoung tapped his fingertips down his naked back, then closed his eyes and sighed.

   This had probably been the wrong thing to do.

   But he could never help himself.

   ‘Don’t go yet,’ mumbled Taeyong against his neck, when Doyoung at last sat up and started to unravel himself.

   ‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ said Doyoung, but his voice was quite light. ‘Come on, I have to go.’

   ‘It’s the second round today.’

   ‘I know.’

   ‘At least stay for that,’ whispered Taeyong, ‘please.’

   Doyoung looked back at him, before giving him a small smile. ‘It won’t look very decent if I emerge from your bedroom to attend the tourney. I’ll return to my accommodation first.’

   It seemed to take a moment for Taeyong to compute his words, and then he beamed. ‘So you’re staying? In town?’

   ‘Yes. I’m staying. For a few more days. I have a golden arrow to win.’ He glanced out of the narrow window and saw that the sun was already making its way up into the sky. ‘We haven’t had a morning practice.’

   ‘It’s okay,’ yawned Taeyong, ‘you know my problem is with nerves. And I feel _very_ relaxed.’

   Doyoung reached around for his clothes. He couldn’t help smiling. It had been a long time since he’d last allowed himself to get physical with someone, and that meant physical in _any_ way: he wasn’t even a hugger, he wasn’t someone who craved closeness with others. There was something about Taeyong that made it feel easy, though. In fact, everything with Taeyong felt _easy._

   Which was ridiculous, because the reality was that everything with him was horribly, horribly difficult.

   ‘My competition slot is a lot earlier than yours,’ said Doyoung. ‘I really do need to go.’

   At this stage in the tournament, the entrants were not permitted to show up whenever they wanted, but rather would compete in predetermined slots.

   Taeyong sighed and stuck his bottom lip out but he didn’t argue.

   ‘I’ll see you later. The usual time for our evening practice,’ Doyoung said as he tucked in his shirt.

   ‘Thank you for staying last night,’ responded Taeyong, and he sat up to collect the blankets around himself with a shy smile. ‘Will you watch me when I shoot?’

   ‘Of course.’

   He thought about crossing the room again to kiss him, but instead he turned around. One night did not make them lovers. And he figured it was probably better if Taeyong did not get attached. As for Doyoung himself? He would detach like he always did, because there could be no such relationship in his world. ‘I’ll see you later.’

   Taeyong gave him a small wave but said nothing more as Doyoung slung his bow over his shoulder and then let himself out of the room. He took the steps down at pace, because he’d meant what he said: he really did want to return to the inn before attending the next round of the tournament. He wanted to change his clothes, and more than anything, he wanted to _think_.

   It was hard to think straight with Taeyong around, and he needed to have a clear head for a minute.  

   He’d always been hot-headed, but now he was… _soft_ -headed, and that seemed more dangerous. Taeyong was just so… _helpable._ He’d thought it before. There was something about him that screamed: let’s run away together, that Doyoung could not resist. The thought of leaving him here made his stomach feel all sorts of wrong.

   But he needed to think in the cold light of day, because the reality was that getting Taeyong out of here would be the easy part: _keeping_ him safe away from this place was the issue that stood out as an impossibility.

   Doyoung had done quite well, though, at the impossible, so far in his life.

*

   He crossed back to the castle and its familiar courtyard when the morning was edging towards the middle of the day. Everything felt more… normal, now that he was back in a low hood and clothes as fresh as he could get them under the circumstances; he could almost trick his mind into thinking that everything which had happened with Taeyong had been some sort of long fever dream.

   The problem was that he couldn’t exactly stop thinking about Taeyong. Back at the inn, he’d started to come up with some kind of a plan. It wouldn’t be safe to keep Taeyong in the forest so close to home, but perhaps they could go away for a while – there were people who needed help all across the land, so Doyoung could find a place, a purpose, anywhere, and if they went far enough south, people would not recognise Taeyong.

   A part of him thought that they’d be able to return in a few years, that Taeyong would have changed enough by then that he would not be so easily recognisable, just like the people from Doyoung’s former life would not recognise him now, but one simple fact was undeniable: Taeyong had the most unmistakeable face of anyone that he had ever met.

   ‘Tag?’

   He looked up at the guard who was manning the desk out in the courtyard this time, tearing himself from his own thoughts. ‘Here,’ he said, as he unhooked the hanging tag from over his head and handed it out.

   The courtyard was rammed with people, far more than had been in attendance any other time. Today, Doyoung did not have the luxury of competing almost at dawn, and with this being the last round before the finals, apparently people were curious. Everyone wanted to see who would get their chance at the coveted golden arrow.

   There were a lot of guards around, too, like they were making a particular show of presence because of the increased numbers. They looked to Doyoung like one person multiplied many times, because the helmets that they wore covered their entire faces, and the clothes and chainmail hung the same way on all of them with only tiny differences based on build – other than that, there was nothing to distinguish one from the other. It unnerved him.

   He concentrated on confirming his entry, and nodding his way politely as he was led to a small cluster of people.

   As he waited, he ran his thumb across one of his sharp arrowheads over and over and over, a nervous habit that he rarely showed. He was thinking. He needed to plan ahead exactly what he was going to shoot for the competition, but he’d been thinking so much about Taeyong that he’d all but forgotten the rest of his situation here. He needed to do well enough to qualify for the final, but toe the line before people started to suspect him; however, without knowing what the other contestants would go on to shoot, it was difficult to decide just how well to do.

   ‘Alright, you’re up.’

   He sighed and walked to the red-dyed circle on the dirt where he would stand. He still had not decided exactly what to do, but even now he found his eyes flitting around the courtyard to check whether Taeyong was secretly watching from somewhere. He knew that the answer was no, of course, because any glimmer of an appearance from the Duke’s son would have started a whispering of rumour by now, but he looked nonetheless.

   Why did he even want Taeyong to watch him so badly?

   _To show off_ , he thought, and for some reason the thoughts were spoken in Johnny’s voice.

   He lifted his bow and notched an arrow. One perfect shot would set him up nicely. He could decide what to do from there.

   He took a steady breath. Archery was like breathing for him. He did not have to think, he barely had to aim – it came as naturally to him as the sun giving way to the moon at night. He kept his gaze soft and his body relaxed but he felt the strain on his hand, a familiar and pleasant tightening of his muscles born from memory. He thought of Taeyong’s hand, and how it trembled so badly when it held the bowstring back like this.

   Then, taking only a second to remove Taeyong’s face from his mind once again, he released the arrow.

   It buried itself very deep in the centre circle of the target, flying so fast that people could not whip their heads across quickly enough to track its trajectory. There could be no denying its place though, once it stilled, at the very centre where the red wound cord completed its spiral.

   A whisper ran around at pace, and he felt a smile wander onto his face.

   He _had_ always liked showing off.

   And then -

   ‘It’s him.’

   The tone was quite calm, and it did not indicate any sense of surprise or shock. It wasn’t a shout, a declaration sent his way, but rather a message in confirmation for those who had already been expecting it.

   ‘Don’t move.’

   He would have turned, but he felt the cold point of a sword at the back of his neck and no amount of agility would be enough to prevent a cut through the important stuff where his spine knotted up by his skull.

   He closed his eyes.

   He felt no panic, not even a sinking in his stomach, because in a way he had known this was coming.

   Doyoung liked to think of himself as realist, but the truth was that when he got caught up in something he cared about, all sensible thoughts disappeared in a puff of smoke. Inside him, though, deep inside, there was a little truth-teller, a voice of reason that whispered in his ear when he was trying to sleep.

   For the last few days, it had been telling him that he would die here, either for this stupid golden arrow, or for Taeyong.

   And it was right.

   No, he didn’t panic. He sighed.

   He wondered whether to try to play the whole thing off as a crazy misunderstanding, but he knew that it was no use. They knew exactly who he was – there had been no hint of doubt. One way or another, they knew.

   Finally, he felt some sort of twist in his gut at last.

   Had Taeyong told them?

   ‘Lower your weapon,’ the voice behind him snapped.

   Doyoung raised his eyebrows but still did not open his eyes. He wanted to live in darkness where that thought couldn’t become reality for just a moment more. ‘You just told me not to move.’

   ‘ _DROP IT!_ ’

   At last, he opened his eyes and he looked down at the bow in his hand. He had no arrow notched. Momentarily, he thought about making an attempt at one, if only to do _something_ , but what good would it do when the courtyard was swarming with guards?

   They were everywhere.

   Of course. It all made sense now.

   He threw down the bow and began to turn slowly, even though he had not been instructed to. That seemed to frighten people, because a gasp rippled around the crowd and they took a collective, rapid step back. The guards had pushed their way between the people and established a sort of perimeter around him, but they seemed unsure of what else to do.

   Doyoung met the eye of his personal assailant, the one brandishing his sword like it was a ribbon to be flourished.

   It was difficult to make much out about him, because he was wearing one of those helmets. However, there was a green cloth tacked to the front of his uniform, and Doyoung knew that meant he was of higher rank.

   His instincts told him to take a step back, or to the side, _anywhere_ that meant moving, making some sort of effort at escape, even if that meant fighting his way out. But for once, he forced his instincts down and tried to think rationally. If he made a break for it, there would be no getting out of here alive. Perhaps he could have managed it with his crew at his side, but he was alone. Hopelessly alone.

   He should have listened to Johnny.

   ‘We know who you are.’ For the first time, there was an almost tremor in the voice of his faceless captor.

   ‘Do you now? I know who I am too,’ he said dryly. At least, it came out that way, but it was as much because his mouth _felt_ horribly dry as it was intentional.

   ‘You’re under arrest. By the order of the Duke you’ll be taken to - ’

   ‘Spare me the formalities.’

   He jolted forwards as hands took his arms and jerked them roughly behind his back. The last thing he saw, before a hood was pulled roughly over his head, was a black corvid breaking away from a nearby parapet and flying up high above the courtyard. He hoped that maybe it was some kind of mystical messenger, ready to take word to Johnny.

   Then he hoped not.

   He did not want his friends coming here and getting themselves killed trying to save him. Not after it was his own stupidity that had landed him here in the first place.

   As he stared at black again, he wondered for the second time whether Taeyong was watching from somewhere, but the thought made bile rise up into his throat.

   He could not entertain the thought that maybe, just maybe, it had been Taeyong who had betrayed him.

*

   ‘You’re cleaner looking than I imagined,’ droned the voice that even after only a few hours had become _incessant_. The jailer talked non-stop. Maybe Doyoung was the most valuable prize that he had ever had in his dungeon, and therefore the most interesting. ‘Thought a few years in the forest would’ve aged you worse.’

   Doyoung let his head fall back against the wall.

   He was sat on the floor, because there was nothing else in the small square cell except for floor and door. The door was heavy, oak by the looks of it, with hinges that he knew would be almost impossible to break. There was a small slatted slot in the door, so that people could check on him he guessed, and that was the reason why he had to listen to this _noise_ from the other side of the wood.

   ‘If I looked like you, I wouldn’t have worn a mask.’

   Doyoung wanted to groan aloud. The thought that they all knew his face now was the second worst thing to come of today. The very worst was the small matter that he would likely be executed in the morning.

   He tapped his fingers on the stone floor. It felt like several hours since he had been brought down here, but he had not seen anyone yet. That was disappointing. He thought that his capture ought to warrant a visit from the Duke himself. Even if he could do nothing else, at least Doyoung could spit in his face.

   Instead, though, he had to endure the talk of the jailer and the wails of someone a couple of cells down.

   ‘In fact, I don’t think - ’

   Doyoung looked up when the voice stopped. There was a muttering that he could quite make out, and he stood in curiosity. He didn’t cross to the door – if it _was_ someone important, then he didn’t want to look too eager, but he took one step closer in the hopes of being able to hear something.

   There was a _clunk_ as the door was unbolted, and then he saw the one person that he so desperately wanted to see, and that he never wanted to see again.

   Taeyong slipped inside, looking all wrong. He wasn’t built for a space like this.

   The cell was dirty, with an unpleasant lingering smell and something in one corner that Doyoung was fairly certain was _blood_.

   _No_ , it didn’t look right for Taeyong to be here.

   Though, now that Doyoung looked closer, Taeyong did look rather… haggard.

   It did little to affect his overall visage, but Doyoung had spent enough time with him now to see the difference. His hair was out of place, and separating into strands that clumped together the same way that Doyoung’s did when he was stressed. His face looked washed out, paler than usual. And his hand was shaking so badly that when he extended it, it took Doyoung a second to realise that it was directed at him.

   He took a step back.

   ‘Doyoung - ’

   ‘Was it you?’ he said.

   Taeyong’s eyes widened. ‘I – what?’

   ‘ _Was it you_?’

   Taeyong looked like he’d attacked him with a blade rather than words. ‘You – you don’t think I - ’

   ‘Answer the question.’

   ‘Doyoung, I wouldn’t. You _know_ I wouldn’t. You can’t think I would betray you? You - ’

   ‘ _Don’t cry_ ,’ Doyoung snapped.

   ‘I wasn’t going to,’ said Taeyong, and his face turned hard.

   Doyoung cursed and ran his hands through his hair. He turned away from him.

   ‘I had to bribe the guards just to get down here. You’re the most well-protected thing that my father has ever kept in his filthy hands. Jaehyun wouldn’t let me come earlier. He said it would be suspicious. He said I had to see out the competition and - ’

   ‘Did you qualify?’ said Doyoung, and he looked back at him. His voice was flat.

   ‘Yes. Yes, I did,’ Taeyong swallowed. ‘I was somewhat distracted. And you know that’s when I shoot best.’

   Doyoung wasn’t sure how that made him feel. His heart did something, but he couldn’t tell what it was. ‘Good,’ he said aloud, ‘well your path is clear now. Maybe you’ll even win the thing. Do you think they’ll execute me before the final? I’d at least like to know the result.’

   Taeyong looked aghast, but to his credit, his eyes remained clear of tears. Maybe he was made of sterner stuff than Doyoung had given him credit for. ‘No,’ he said, tilting his chin up. ‘My father will want to be creative. It’ll take some planning.’

   ‘Excellent. I can’t wait to find out exactly how he’s going to torture me to death.’

   ‘I won’t let it happen.’ Taeyong’s voice finally dropped to a hush. ‘Me and Jaehyun will figure out a way to get you out of here.’

   ‘Right, Jaehyun,’ he laughed, and when Taeyong gave him a questioning look he rolled his eyes. ‘If you didn’t betray me, then who do you think did? Because he sure seems to know a lot.’

   Taeyong glared at him. ‘Whatever you think about Jaehyun, whatever you think he might think about _you_ , he would never do anything to hurt me. Not ever. He knows how much I care about you. And he’d die for me, let alone keep a secret for me.’

   ‘You’re too trusting.’

   ‘ _Don’t_! I’m not a naïve baby who lives in their tower and does nothing all day except for paint. I know a lot of stuff. Maybe I don’t know as much as you, but I’m not stupid. And I’m the only person you have left, the _only_ one who can get you out of here.’

   Doyoung kneaded his forehead. His mind was racing. Then, he looked back up and met his eyes. ‘Just go, Taeyong. Don’t come down here again, it’s too dangerous for you. It’s bad enough that you were associated with me out there, but now everyone knows who I am? You should forget me. Go win the tourney.’

   ‘Do you think last night was nothing?’ Taeyong whispered, and at last he sounded truly in pain. ‘Because it wasn’t nothing to me.’

   Doyoung slumped down against the wall and palmed at his eyes. ‘In a few days, I’ll be dead. It _should_ be nothing.’

   Taeyong grabbed his hand before he could pull it away and drew it from his eyes towards his own chest as he crouched opposite him. He gripped it tight. ‘It’s not going to happen. I’ll get you out of here.’

   The door clanged again and Doyoung felt his stomach give a twinge of distrust when he saw Jaehyun appear. ‘It’s time to go,’ he directed straight to Taeyong.

   Doyoung didn’t argue with that, because he needed Taeyong to go. He needed Taeyong to go because all of a sudden everything was pressing in on him with alarming pressure, like some barrier had been broken down. Panic. He’d never felt it like that before.

   He was going to die.

   Probably in a gruesome way.

   It was over. They had caught him. _He should have listened to Johnny_.

   And Kun.

   And everyone else who had ever warned him against such stupidity.

   Instead, he’d signed his own death warrant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/puffyong_)


	7. Chapter 7

 

   Doyoung paced the five steps of his cell back and forth for what could have been the thousandth time that day. He knew that it was day, because the night jailer had left his post and been replaced a while earlier. Other than that, it was difficult to get an idea of the time, because there was no window, and not a hint of natural light made its way this deep beneath the fortress above.

   A _fortress_. That was how it felt now, as Doyoung tried to plan a way out of it. Never before had the walls seemed so impenetrable or the locks so unbreakable. Only now that his life depended on a route out, did any path seem so impossible to find.

   It did not help that he was tired, that he was hungry, and that he was isolated. He had not seen Taeyong again.  

   He had not seen anyone again, in fact, apart from his talkative friend on the other side of the door. He had been graced with no visit from the Duke, and no religious man who might have offered him a chance at clemency. No, Doyoung would have no such opportunities. His day of death was already set, he had been informed, and was only three days away. It would not be done in public, to his surprise. Instead, it would be executed – or rather, _he_ would be executed – behind closed doors. Apparently the Duke didn’t want anyone thinking rebellion was a route to fame.

   That was the public line, anyway.

   In reality, Doyoung knew that a public execution would mean more opportunity for rescue, and that was not a risk the Duke was willing to take.

   The small matter of his impending death did hover around Doyoung’s mind, but he had other thoughts too, and today, those ones felt more important. For the first time, much as it made him feel somewhat sick to do it, he was the one to start a conversation.

   ‘Hey!’ he banged on the heavy oak door.

   The slat was pushed aside almost immediately. The jailer seemed to loiter outside his cell all the time, like it was especially exciting to be guarding some sort of celebrity. ‘What?’

   ‘It’s the final of the tourney, today.’

   ‘I know,’ said the man with an irritating kind of smirk. ‘Bet you wish you were up there, right? Showing off?’

   ‘Yes,’ Doyoung sighed, ‘yes I do love to show off. But what time is it? Have they competed yet?’

   ‘How would I know? I’m stuck down here with you, aren’t I?’

   ‘Can you find out?’ Doyoung pressed.

   He rolled his eyes before slamming the slat. ‘They told me you were rabid, not stupid.’

   Doyoung kicked the door and turned with a curse. He wanted to know whether Taeyong was competing. Of course he was, he had to be. In which case, he needed to _know_. He needed to know how Taeyong was shooting because that would tell him how he was feeling.

   Was he so nervous about the tourney that his hand would shake beyond repair? Would he be stressed about Doyoung and perform worse, or stressed about Doyoung and perform _better_ because he wouldn’t be thinking about his shooting at all? Was he not bothered in the slightest because it was really _him_ who had sold Doyoung out in the first place?

   _No_ , he did not believe that of Taeyong. He would not believe it. The thoughts seeped in, though, when he could not sleep; as the hours added up, as the hunger worsened, his mind began to play more tricks on him. A million scenarios ran through his mind each night, and in some of them, Taeyong was the villain.

   He hated those thoughts.

   Perhaps someone else had seen him? He really did shoot well. He’d shot perfect scores, he’d shot the bell, he’d trained right there in the guards’ courtyard with Taeyong. Just because his face had always been covered when he’d taken up his role as outlaw, that did not mean that he was unrecognisable. Someone could have identified his gait, or his voice, or even the language of his body that he worked so hard to hide.

   There were many explanations that did not involve Taeyong. And he tried to focus on those ones.

   A lot of the time, he focused on _Jaehyun_.

   He settled himself back down on the floor and eyed the walls. He’d rolled his gaze over them a thousand times in search of some kind of imperfection, vulnerability. But the dungeons were underground, which meant there would be no breaking through the walls. The only way out was through the door, and with heavy locks and bolts, and well-made hinges, and a 24/7 guard, his chances of making it through there were slim.

   That left him few options.

   In reality, he knew that he would likely have just one chance at escape: when they moved him for his execution.

   Being moved always provided good opportunity for confusion in the case of a diversion, and it was much more difficult to keep guard of a moving target. At the very least, he would be beyond these four walls, and nothing could be more inescapable than those.

   The one chance would be cutting it fine, but he’d been close to death before, too.

   Maybe not this close.

   But close.

   He let his eyes fall shut for a moment. It felt like a long time since he had slept.

   For periods of time, he was able to slip into a kind of semi-doze. He was still _awake_ , but his body shut down a little and his mind wandered to a place more blurred and less aware.

   There was a pain in the back of his head and a worse one in his stomach, a gnawing hunger and all its accompanying symptoms. He concentrated on that for a while. Thinking about the pain was still better than thinking about his own death.

   He’d been imagining it a lot.

   He’d thought about how much it would hurt. He’d thought about how long it would take. He’d thought about whether Taeyong would be there.

   He very much hoped not.

   To what would end up being considerable _surprise_ when he eventually woke up, Doyoung did start to drift into a sleep. Or at least some kind of unconsciousness. His body felt weak, so maybe that contributed. He found thoughts overtaken by dreams. All of those were strange. His mind was too clouded up to get a real grip on them, and the colours and the shapes were one ever-shifting blur. There was noise, too.

   The noise was annoying.

   Didn’t his mind know that it was supposed to be resting?

   There was something like a thudding, maybe his heartbeat, but also something like a shout. He wanted to tell his brain to shut up. For the first time since he had been captured, he was not fixating on his situation. If this could last…

   ‘Doyoung? _Doyoung_!’

   The light slap to his face was enough to drag him from his blackout at last.

   His head rolled forwards as he dragged his eyes open, and he felt hands tight on his shoulders. The fingers dug in, like they were holding him up. They _were_ holding him up. He had to summon up strength to keep himself steady instead of relying on the grip.

   ‘Time to go,’ said Johnny, ‘we don’t have a lot of time. _Idiot_ ,’ he added, with a small smile.

   _Johnny_.

   Johnny.

   Johnny’s face, a couple of inches from his as he checked him over for injury.

   Johnny had surely never looked so good.

   Doyoung’s mind raced back into action, even if his body was slower to respond.

   _Johnny was here_.

   ‘You’re - ’ he managed just the word, before Johnny silenced him by holding up a leather flask against his mouth. Doyoung would have protested, but he ended up spluttering, because he’d been expecting water and instead was met with something much thicker.

   ‘I’m rescuing your idiot ass, yeah,’ Johnny nodded, as Doyoung finally managed to choke down a couple of mouthfuls of the soup. ‘Don’t say I didn’t _warn_ you that - ’

   ‘Can we do the _I-told-you-so-s_ later, Johnny? This place is _not_ somewhere where I want to stick around.’

   Doyoung looked up and met the eyes of Renjun who had spoken. He looked too small for everything around him, too young to be in a place like this. Still, Doyoung had never been happier to see his face.

   Johnny hauled him to his feet and checked him over again.

   ‘I can walk,’ Doyoung provided, ‘how did you get in here? The guards – the _jailer_ – the - ’

   ‘You’ve made friends in high places,’ Johnny winked. ‘Some member of the castle guard’s inner circle rode out to find us. Cleared the route. Jaehyun, apparently.’

   _Jaehyun_.

   Doyoung closed his eyes and nodded. Jaehyun, who he had found in his thoughts almost as much as _Taeyong_ since his capture; Jaehyun, who he had blamed, who he had decided _must_ have sold him out because he was the only other person except for Taeyong who could have done so.

   ‘I thought he betrayed me,’ said Doyoung, without a hint of shame. It _was_ what he had thought.

   ‘Betrayed you? You don’t even know who put you in here?’

   ‘No, no I _don’t_ ,’ he said, voice hard. He resented the fact that he was the last person to know.

   ‘It was that nobleman from the next town, Doyoung,’ Johnny responded like this was the most obvious thing in the world. ‘The one we robbed a few weeks ago? With the gilded carriage? You remember? We left him roped up to that tree.’

   ‘I remember.’

   ‘Yeah, well, rumour has it that he was competing at the tourney. _Apparently_ he recognised your voice.’

   Doyoung closed his eyes.

   _Of course_.

   Hadn’t he noticed the man, _twice_? Hadn’t he thought himself how dangerous it was to be around him when their robbery had been so recent?

   _How_ had he not thought of it before?

   His stomach turned over at the thought of all the hours he’d spent thinking about Taeyong and Jaehyun.

   ‘Look,’ continued Johnny. ‘We only have a small window of opportunity. We need to go _now_. Yuta and Jeno are keeping watch on the first floor. Jaemin?’

   Jaemin, who had been stood just behind Renjun, stepped forwards, and held out a bow. ‘It’s not yours,’ he said quietly, ‘they’ve got it almost as well guarded as _you_. But it’s something.’

   Doyoung forced a smile. There was no time to dwell on other thoughts now. He liked his bow, but this would do. Besides, given his penchant for recklessness, he would probably come back to collect his own later.

   He still felt weak, his body exhausted, but there was a rush of adrenaline there too that buoyed him. This was it. He only needed energy for the next few minutes. He needed to be strong for just a little longer. Then, out in the forest, he could rest. He could eat. He could sleep.

   ‘Let’s go,’ Johnny pulled Doyoung’s arm, and Doyoung, for once in his life, was happy to follow. ‘Jaehyun gave them some kind of sleeping draught, something _strong_ , at the guards’ quarters – worked on at _least_ half of them, and, well,’ he smirked, ‘we could handle the other half. And he left the keys for your cell out for us.’

   ‘What happened to the jailer?’

   ‘Mysteriously not present when we arrived,’ Johnny shrugged with a grin. ‘Looks like Jaehyun took care of that for you too. Guy must really like you.’

   ‘Yeah, he must,’ Doyoung muttered.

   ‘Oh _God,_ don’t tell me you’re having some sort of love affair with a castle guard?’

   ‘No, not with a guard,’ he said quietly.

   Between his own crew and Jaehyun, the path really had been left quite clear. They made it out of the dungeon un-intercepted, the four of them climbing quietly over the unconscious bodies of the guards that Johnny had left in his wake on the way down. Johnny was a remarkable fighter, one of the reasons that he was known as Doyoung’s right hand man.

   Doyoung’s heart wasn’t quite in his mouth, but it was somewhere low in his throat, a lump that he couldn’t clear out, especially when he was trying to keep quiet. A part of him was not surprised that his family had come to his rescue, but another part was filled with dread at the prospect that they could be caught, all because of his stupidity.

   As they navigated their way out of the dungeon, Jaemin and Renjun took the lead. Doyoung caught Johnny’s arm and held him back for a second. ‘You shouldn’t have come,’ he whispered. ‘But thank you.’

   Johnny rolled his eyes. ‘You’re a reckless idiot, but you’re our idiot. We were hardly going to leave you to die.’

   Doyoung pulled Johnny close for a hug. That wasn’t his sort of thing. But in that second, he wanted to convey something that went beyond words. Brotherhood, maybe. He extricated himself quickly, though, and peered around the corner where the dungeon opened out onto a long, stone-clad corridor. On two walls, there flickered flaming red torches.

   ‘Outlaws! Out-’

   Doyoung, even in his weakened state, whipped around so quickly that the man fell silent as he stared down the arrow that Doyoung had notched, an arrow now pointed at his heart. He wasn’t a guard. He was barely a man, really, but rather more of a boy. Some sort of squire, Doyoung thought. ‘Go,’ said Doyoung, and the venom in his voice was so severe that it could have been mistaken for that of a real villain. ‘If you want to live, then go.’

   Doyoung would never hurt a kid like that, but _he_ didn’t have to know that.

   And he had his own family to worry about. Renjun, Jaemin, Jeno… they could not be caught here.

   There was a moment where everyone froze, and then –

   The boy started to yell again. ‘The outlaw is esc-’

   He dropped, knocked out stone cold, with a thud that resounded only just less loud than his voice.

   ‘I thought he’d never shut up,’ said Yuta, twirling the torch that had functioned as his weapon between his hands. ‘I say we should get out of here.’

   Doyoung nodded and took a deep breath. ‘Yes. Yes, let’s go.’

   Jeno and Yuta took up the rear of the pack as they moved almost silently through the complex maze of corridors. Doyoung knew a lot of the way, and the rest Johnny seemed to have mapped out.

   ‘We’re going to take an exit out through the kitchens,’ whispered Johnny. ‘It opens straight onto the city wall, and we can - ’

   ‘No,’ said Doyoung. ‘I have something I have to do.’

   There could be no pushing it from his mind. Not ever. He had to do it. Otherwise it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

   Johnny, not for the first time during their years together, looked as though he wanted to tear his hair out. ‘You have to be messing with me?’

   ‘You’ve done enough,’ said Doyoung. ‘I know the way to the kitchens. Meet me there. Go. But there’s something I can’t leave behind.’

   Johnny cursed, but he didn’t argue. There was no point. He never won.

   Doyoung took one last look at his friends, his heart full of relief that he had been given the chance to see them at least one more time, and then he set off in the other direction.

   It was easier to move around without them. Even in the Duke’s castle itself, people rarely spared a glance in the direction of a single man. Still, he moved swiftly. Once his absence from the dungeon was noticed, the entire place would shut down, and there would be no hope of escape at all.

   He ducked across the courtyard around the outer wall of the castle, until he reached the familiar curve of Taeyong’s tower.

   Jaehyun was waiting.

   ‘I knew you would come,’ he said.

   ‘I have something I need to take with me,’ said Doyoung. He swallowed. ‘Thank you, for what you’ve done.’

   ‘I didn’t do it for you,’ Jaehyun shrugged.

   ‘You should get out of town. When they find out - ’

   ‘None of it can be traced back to me.’

   Doyoung nodded slowly. ‘Okay.’

   Jaehyun stood aside and opened the heavy door of the tower. ‘He doesn’t know you’re coming. I didn’t want to get his hopes up. Be quick.’

   He didn’t need that advice.

   Doyoung took the stairs three at a time, but he stopped at the very top of tower and took a deep breath before pushing open the door. His heart had finally made its way all the way to his mouth.

   The room was dark. Taeyong was bundled up under a pile of blankets. Doyoung could see them rising and falling with his breath.

   He crossed over with feather-light steps and sat down as gently on the side of the bed. His hand went straight to rest on Taeyong’s shoulder, and as it did so, a glint of gold illuminated by the moonlight caught the very corner of his eye. On the small, wooden nightstand beside Taeyong’s bed, there was balanced the golden arrow.

   Doyoung, for one blessed moment, felt no fear, no stress, no pain, only pride.

   _Pride_.

   He could not allow the sentiment to last long, but he basked in it for a second.

   Then he shook Taeyong’s shoulder, and Taeyong jerked awake.

   At first, he didn’t seem to register who Doyoung was, but then his eyes widened and his mouth opened and he sat up, and he _threw_ himself forwards so quickly that Doyoung only just had time to navigate his arms around him instead of getting them caught against his own body.

   ‘Doyoung, Doyoung you’re – I thought – you’ve - ’

   ‘Yeah, I’m okay. I’m on my way out. But I came to get one last thing.’ Doyoung was struggling to breath under Taeyong’s crushing embrace.

   ‘I thought they were going to kill you, Doyoung. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know how - ’

   Doyoung pressed a finger to Taeyong’s lips to silence him, and only when he stopped speaking did he lean close again to replace his finger with his own lips in a kiss that he hoped transferred even just a little pride. ‘You won,’ he whispered, breath fanning over Taeyong’s lips.

   ‘For you,’ Taeyong nodded rapidly. His eyes were red, but it didn’t look like he’d been crying recently. Maybe he’d looked that way ever since Doyoung’s capture. He grabbed the golden arrow and held it out to Doyoung. ‘I won it for you.’

   Doyoung looked down at it, the treasured prize that he had been willing to give up everything for. Then he looked back up, at the prize which was worth so much more. ‘I didn’t come here for an arrow, Taeyong. I came here for you. I’m taking you with me.’

   For the first time, the prospect of leaving sent a flash of panic across Taeyong’s eyes, and Doyoung did not miss it.

   Taeyong looked around the room. ‘Doyoung, there’s no _time_. Once they realise you’re gone – _hell_ they probably _already_ realise you’re gone…’

   ‘That’s why we have to be quick,’ said Doyoung.

   He pulled Taeyong with him as he climbed back off the bed, but Taeyong was not moving fast enough. ‘Doyoung, there isn’t enough _time_ ,’ he repeated, ‘I’ll slow you down! You need to go!’

   Doyoung prepared to fight back, but when he opened his mouth, there was a clang in the distance.

   _Alarm bells._

The world stayed in limbo just long enough for Taeyong to shake his head, and then the shouts started up outside.

   ‘Take it.’ Taeyong pressed the golden arrow into his hands. ‘ _Take it_. Go. I’ll cause a diversion.’

   ‘Taeyong, no - ’

   ‘Please,’ whispered Taeyong. ‘You did it once for me.’

   Doyoung thought about the bell, and how it had saved Taeyong’s chances at the tourney. He looked at the arrow again. Taeyong was right. The last of his time had run out. ‘I’ll come back for you.’

   ‘Don’t. Get far away from here. As far away as you can get.’

   Doyoung ignored him and caught his face in his hands. ‘ _I’ll come back for you_.’

   He kissed him one more time, and whatever he’d said, whatever he might have promised, he treated it like a final kiss. He clutched at Taeyong like it was the last time he’d ever hold him.

   And then, because he had to, he let go.

   He took the steps back out of the tower even faster than he had entered. He heard Taeyong following him.

   When he burst back out into the courtyard, hands grabbed him straight away and forced him far into the shadows. Jaehyun held him there with a vicelike grip, until a group of guards had run past.

   ‘Go now,’ said Jaehyun.

   Doyoung looked back for Taeyong, if only to memorise the lines of his face one more time, but Taeyong had already started to run, in the other direction.

   ‘THE OUTLAW!’ he bellowed, louder than the squire that Doyoung had encountered inside. ‘HE WENT THAT WAY!’

   ‘ _Go -_ ’ Jaehyun gave Doyoung a ferocious shove, in the opposite direction to where Taeyong was pointing.

   No one disobeyed the word of nobility.

   The guards followed Taeyong’s voice like gospel.

   And Doyoung fled.

   He ran, blood rushing in his ears, the golden arrow grasped tight in his hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/puffyong_)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go…

 

   The weeks that followed the outlaw Doyoung’s remarkable escape were filled first with wild rumour, then with quieter murmuring, and then with uneasy silence. It got to the point where most of the city seemed unwilling to mention his name, in case a guard took their words the wrong way. That had been the aura in the air now for a while; they wanted the _myth_ of Kim Doyoung and his escape to die altogether.

   No amount of efforts from the outside, though, could stop Taeyong from thinking about him every single day.

   Doyoung was not a myth. He was not an _idea_. He was a man. A man who lived and breathed and touched. Taeyong could still remember the _feeling_ of his touches. The rough ones, when Doyoung had been trying to push him away, and the gentle ones, when he had been trying to hold onto him forever. He still remembered how Doyoung’s fingers had felt against his skin, calloused against soft, when he had held him close after their one precious night together.

   No, Taeyong would not stop thinking about him.

   Not ever.

   Even if Doyoung stopped thinking about _him_.

   No one had heard anything about Doyoung for quite some time. Ever since he and his men had made their escape, there had been rumours, of course, but nothing concrete. There were small signs, little calling-cards that could mean the outlaws had been around, but nothing that anyone could get a proper grip on. Some said that it was just paranoia, and that they had gone deep into hiding.

   Taeyong wasn’t so sure.

   He didn’t believe those that said Doyoung had gone south, or gone north. He could _sense_ him nearby.

   Maybe it was just wild hope, but he couldn’t allow himself to think otherwise. He had told Doyoung to _go_ , to go as far away as possible, but deep inside the fear that Doyoung might have obeyed and _left_ him? Those images filled his nightmares.

   Doyoung’s safety was the most important thing. But no amount of selflessness could not stop Taeyong from wishing, from praying, from begging the fates to allow him his escape from here too.

   Things had improved, slightly, since he had won the golden arrow at the tourney. He still wasn’t really allowed to _do_ anything, but his father didn’t look upon him with quite such disgust as he once had. His brother joked that he must have cheated somehow, but Taeyong just tilted his chin up and ignored him. He did not need his family’s approval anymore. There were more important things.

   As the weeks dragged on, Taeyong confined himself to his room more and more. He was painting. He painted every scene from his memory. Special days out on the training grounds with Doyoung, all of the most important moments of the tourney, even the day of his escape. Taeyong wanted to get them all down now, because he knew that one day the images would not be so vivid in his mind.

   Especially Doyoung’s face.

   He drew that a hundred times.

   ‘Still?’ asked Jaehyun with a small smile when he came to check on him one day.

   Taeyong nodded, and pinned the painting up to dry. Not all of his art supplies were out on his desk, anymore. Many of them had been boxed away in his bags for weeks. The bags were tucked under his bed where no one would see them, crammed with his most important possessions. _Waiting_. Just waiting. He needed to be ready to leave in a second.

   “ _I’ll come back for you._ ”

   Doyoung’s words rang around his mind. All the time.

   He savoured them when he could not sleep at night, when the days stretched into weeks and the chances became less likely. He knew that Doyoung would not have made such a promise to him if he would not keep it.

   He would come.

   Taeyong just had to wait.

   He would wait weeks. He would wait months. He would wait years if he had to.

   Once upon a time, he had thought that any more time spent here would kill him from sheer misery. But now, he had one thing he had never had before:

   Hope.

   ‘It looks like him,’ Jaehyun nodded to the picture.

   Taeyong narrowed his eyes. ‘Something is missing. I feel like I can never quite get him right.’

   ‘Well, he’s a complicated guy,’ Jaehyun smiled. Then he gave him a more sober look. ‘Your father demands your presence for dinner.’

   ‘Can’t wait,’ Taeyong muttered.

   He stood up and stretched out. Across the back of his shoulders, there was a constant sort of strain these days. He spent so long hunched over his artwork that his body became tight. That was one of the reasons that he missed being out on the training courtyard with Doyoung, stretching out his wings and breathing the fresh air. He’d been out, since, with Jaehyun, but it never felt the same anymore.

   He sloped out of the room with Jaehyun at his side. He did not bother to dress nicely, instead keeping on the loose, plain clothes that he wore around his room. Ever since Doyoung had gone, he’d developed a distaste for finery. He’d even given away most of his jewellery, or had asked _Jaehyun_ to give it away for him in the town. Once he was out in the forest, he wouldn’t need such things, and he did not like what they represented.

   _Once he was out in the forest_.

   Soon.

*

   Taeyong picked at his food. The taste was too rich. That was another thing that had changed. In fact, almost everything about his life now felt all wrong. It was as though he was living the life of someone else, as though he had been transplanted into the wrong body. None of this was him.

   ‘I’m going to increase the taxes for the west villages.’

   Taeyong looked up. He had not paid much attention to the majority of the dinner. ‘Why?’ he said, and everyone turned to look at him. They were used to his distinct lack of response. Usually, he sat in silence for meals until he was allowed to leave.

   His father shrugged. He was an unpleasant looking man, Taeyong thought. He could understand why people thought that he could not be Taeyong’s real father. Sometimes Taeyong believed it, he’d even thought of asking his mother, but he could never find the courage. His father was shorter than him, with greying hair and close-set eyes. He always wore an expression of superiority, and that was what made him look unpleasant. ‘They benefit from the fertile soil. They should be paying for the privilege.’

   Taeyong narrowed his eyes. ‘But they already pay? Their surplus demands are amongst the highest in the region.’

   At this, they all stared. Not only did Taeyong rarely speak at dinner, but he also rarely gave any indication that he paid attention to what was going on outside of the four walls in which he lived.

   ‘Don’t talk about things you don’t understand, Taeyong,’ snapped his father.

   Taeyong shrugged and looked back down at his bowl. Once upon a time, he used to be scared when his father snapped at him. These days, he just found it tiring.

   ‘Frankly, I agree with you father.’

   Taeyong rolled his eyes at the sound of his brother’s voice. He hated the pair of them. Only his mother could he feel any kind of care for, and even she had never made an attempt to stand up for him, or for anyone else for that matter.

   Never once had this dinner table felt like a family.

   ‘May I be excused?’ he asked, careful to keep his voice polite. He thought that he had served his time, and he hoped that they would be thankful to be rid of him anyway.

   Sure enough, his father waved him away with one lazy hand.

   Taeyong jumped up out of his seat so fast that he was sure they noticed his haste, but he did not try to slow himself as he darted out of the room. One of the ladies from the kitchen was a good friend to him, and he knew that she would bring a large slice of whatever pie they were having for dessert to his room later.

   ‘All okay?’ asked Jaehyun, who was waiting outside the door as always.

   ‘Same as always,’ he muttered.

   They walked in silence until they were out in the courtyard. The sun had gone down while Taeyong was inside, and a spattering of stars had appeared to intersperse the darkening blue sky.

   ‘Can I ask you something, Jaehyun?’

   Jaehyun nodded. ‘Of course.’

   ‘If I… if I needed to go – if I couldn’t stand it any longer – would _you_ take me away from here?’

   Jaehyun raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Why? Are you thinking about it?’

   ‘No,’ said Taeyong, ‘no, of course not. My Doyoung will come back for me and I’m waiting for him. But just hypothetically. If it ever got too much… you know I wouldn’t be able to survive by myself out there. Would you give it all up? All of this? To come with me and keep me safe?’

   Jaehyun looked around the courtyard as they walked. ‘You know that I vowed to defend your father’s standard, Taeyong. I took an oath.’

   ‘I know,’ Taeyong sighed.

   ‘But I also took an oath to protect you. The role of the personal guard is to defend the Duke and his family. And if that would mean protecting you, as his son, far from here, then I would do it.’

   Taeyong exhaled. ‘You would?’

   He paused as Jaehyun turned to give him a small smile. ‘Besides, you’re my best friend.’

   ‘I wouldn’t have survived all these years without you, Jaehyun. And without _you_ , Doyoung would be dead. You’ve already saved my life once.’

   They stopped by the door of Taeyong’s tower. ‘I’ll be here,’ said Jaehyun, ‘I’ll change over for the night guard at the usual time.’

   ‘Goodnight, Jaehyun.’

   ‘Goodnight, Taeyong.’

   From the stairs upwards, Taeyong felt the loneliness creep straight back. Jaehyun could be with him everywhere, but he rarely ventured up with him to his room. That private space was one that he considered off limits, even though Taeyong would have liked someone to talk to in these later hours too. Jaehyun really was the only person that he had, here. And he was the only person in the world who knew the truth about him and Doyoung, and therefore the only person that he could truly talk to.

   He pushed open the door to his room and walked inside with a heavy heart.

   He was ready to begin another night of waiting.

   It took a moment for him to light a lamp, because his tremor had been bad recently and he needed to concentrate when it came to oil and fire.

   After a second, when the room eventually flickered into life, his heart stopped.

   ‘Don’t move.’

   He closed his eyes and listened to the voice. He felt the movement behind him.

   ‘I’m here to take your gold, and your silver, even the rings on your fingers, little prince. I might just take you too.’

   The smile that found its way onto Taeyong’s face was like none it had ever seen before. The weight on his heart lifted. The shaking stopped.

   ‘I missed you,’ he whispered, as he felt Doyoung’s arm wrap around his waist from behind. ‘But I’m _not_ a prince.’

   Doyoung pressed a kiss to Taeyong’s neck, and then released him.

   Taeyong turned so fast that he almost fell, and threw his arms around him.

   The world felt different. The very air he breathed felt different.

   ‘I thought you were never coming back,’ said Doyoung, as he held Taeyong close to him. ‘I snuck in ages ago. I’ve been looking at your drawings.’

   Taeyong flushed, embarrassed at the thought that Doyoung had been studying the images of him. ‘You thought _I_ was never coming back? I thought _you_ were never coming back. I’ve been staying up every night. I’ve been waiting,’ the sharpness in his voice faded, replaced by some emotion between pain and relief that he could not quite put a name to. ‘I’ve been waiting, Doyoung.’

   As he spoke, Taeyong raced his eyes over Doyoung’s face. There had been moments where he thought maybe he’d just imagined him, that maybe he was some complex figment of his imagination conjured up out of desperation, but he was again, _real_.

   ‘I know,’ Doyoung murmured. He kissed Taeyong’s temple and pushed him back far enough that he could look him up and down, gripping his shoulders. ‘I know, Taeyong, I’m sorry. I’ve been waiting for the right moment. I’ve been… setting things up, for us.’

   ‘What things?’ Taeyong blinked away the tears that had formed from the strange emotion.

   ‘We’re going away. My pack are on the move already. I’m going to take you far away from here, Yong-ah, where no one will recognise you. Somewhere that we can have a life.’

   Taeyong’s heart pounded against his chest.

   This was it.

   Everything that he had waited for.

   Everything that he had dreamed off.

   There was fear, but it was drowned out by excitement.

   ‘I packed my things already. I’ve been doing some more training with Jaehyun, too. I’m even better with a bow, now. I won’t be a dead weight.’

   ‘Even if you were, I would carry you,’ Doyoung said quietly. ‘But we need to go, now. This place is… I don’t need to tell you how dangerous it is for me to be here.’

   ‘Thank you for coming back,’ Taeyong choked. The pent-up emotion of _weeks_ found its way into his voice and he heard it break.

   ‘Well for some strange reason, noble-boy,’ Doyoung sighed, ‘I seem to love you. I was hardly going to leave you behind.’

   Chaos rushed in Taeyong’s ears. ‘Love me?’

   ‘Don’t ask me why. Now, where are your things?’

   Taeyong closed his eyes and took a moment to remind himself that this moment was real. It was not one of his dreams. ‘Under the bed.’

   He watched Doyoung bend down and drag out the heavy leather bags. ‘What’s _in_ these?’

   ‘My art things,’ said Taeyong, tilting his chin up. ‘And my clothes.’

   ‘Well I’m not carrying them both, you’ll have to take one.’

   Taeyong looked down. He couldn’t stop smiling. ‘Doyoung?’

   ‘Mm?’

   ‘I love you too.’

   Doyoung did not waste much time from that moment on. He took one of Taeyong’s paintings from his desk, even though Taeyong promised that he would paint him a hundred more anyway. He also stopped to dismantle two solid gold candlestick holders that he apparently could not resist. But then he hoisted Taeyong’s bags – both of them – onto his shoulder, and he nodded to his desk.

   ‘Write a note, to your father. Tell him that you’re heading south to start a new life, that you can’t stand it anymore. Tell him not to come looking.’

   ‘You know he’ll look for me forever?’ Taeyong said quietly.

   ‘Yes,’ Doyoung smiled, ‘but I’d like it if he started in the wrong place.’ 

   Taeyong did as he was told. The nerves meant that his hands did shake a little, but he gripped his ink brush tightly and that made it easier.

   ‘You need to wear your best boots. Thick, but comfortable. And you need to bring your warm cloaks because the winter is coming and… well… you’re not exactly experienced in our sort of lifestyle.’

   ‘It’s all packed,’ Taeyong nodded. He’d planned ahead in meticulous detail.

   He held up his note and read through it. He wondered how much of it his father would believe.

   ‘Anything else you need?’

   Taeyong nodded again. ‘Just one more thing. But he’s outside.’

   _Jaehyun_.

   Taeyong would not leave him behind here any more than Doyoung would have left _him_.

   Doyoung gave him a long-suffering look, but there was fondness there.

   As they went to the door, Taeyong took one last look around the room where he had spent almost his entire life. He did not feel compelled to linger, though. In fact, as his eyes flitted around each detail, he found that he could not wait to leave.

   ‘Take your time, why don’t you!’

   Taeyong stared at the stranger as they emerged into the night.

   Beside Jaehyun, was the tall, broad-shouldered figure, cast in semi-shadow. Taeyong did not recognise him, but Jaehyun was talking to him as though they were old friends.

   Doyoung, who too looked impatient to leave, nodded quickly to the stranger. ‘Taeyong, this is Johnny. My right hand man.’

   Taeyong bowed politely. ‘Johnny, this is Jaehyun, _my_ right hand man,’ he said, more out of courtesy than anything because he knew of course that Jaehyun had met the outlaws already.

   ‘We’ve met,’ Jaehyun smiled. The smile wasn’t even directed at Taeyong. It was directed at _Johnny_. And there was a wide-eyed kind of look behind it that made Taeyong narrow his eyes.

   No wonder Jaehyun had recounted his trip to the forest so many times.  

   ‘Looks like it’s time, Tae,’ Jaehyun turned to him properly at last. ‘At last.’

   ‘You will come with me, won’t you?’ Taeyong whispered.

   ‘Of course. I already told you that I would. My bag’s been packed under my bed for weeks.’ He gave him a look of gentle, familial love, the sort that was built from years of friendship, the sort that Taeyong could not live without. He needed his best friend by his side.

   Taeyong gave him a beaming smile. His fingers were properly shaking in excitement now. ‘How will we go?’ he asked Doyoung. ‘Through the kitchens?’

   ‘No,’ smiled Doyoung. ‘We just need to get past the gates. But I’ve got my people in position. And we brought horses.’ There was a knowing look in his eye, and Taeyong felt his heart leap.

   It had been a long time since he had last felt the freedom of travelling on horseback.

   ‘One more thing,’ said Doyoung.

   Taeyong looked to him expectantly, as Doyoung rummaged around inside his cloak.

   ‘Here.’

   He settled the mask over Taeyong’s eyes, the smell of fresh leather filling his nostrils.

   ‘You’re one of us now. Kun made it for you.’

   Taeyong ran his fingertips lovingly over the mask, relishing in the sensation of becoming an outlaw.

*

   ‘I say the first thing we do is pay a visit to that scum who ratted you out,’ said Johnny, ‘and we’ll take Taeyong. It’ll be nice for him to get his first run out.’

   They were huddled around the fire, on Taeyong’s very first night out in the forest. The night was already approaching dawn, by the time that they rode out as far as they desired, before they stopped for some food and a moment of sleep for some. There was no warm pie or cake from the castle kitchens for Taeyong to eat, but there was a sort of chewy bun that Doyoung made and then heated over the fire for him, and it was just as good.

   _Better._

‘No,’ said Doyoung. He was distracted, arms wrapped tightly around Taeyong as they rested back against a bundle of bags, but he was still listening. He traced his fingertips through Taeyong’s hair. Since their reunion, he seemed unable to stop touching him. ‘No, we’ll leave all that behind for a while. Besides, Taeyong already beat him in the tourney, and I’m sure that stings enough.’

   Taeyong gave everyone a smug smile. He was glad that he could be here amongst them as any kind of equal, instead of just as Doyoung’s companion. He could be _useful_ to them. His skills with a bow were worthy of the golden arrow, after all.

   ‘Speaking of the tourney,’ began Doyoung, and he reached around for his own bag. ‘Your prize.’

   Taeyong took back the golden arrow with wide eyes. ‘You still have it?’ he whispered. ‘I was sure you would have sold it by now.’

   ‘It’s yours,’ said Doyoung, ‘I merely safeguarded it for you. I’ve got my prize right here.’ With those words, he pressed a kiss to the crown of Taeyong’s head.

   ‘You can use it like you always intended to,’ said Taeyong. For a second he enjoyed the weight of it in his hands, his one incredible victory, but he never felt right holding gold anymore. ‘I don’t want it. Melt it down. Use the money to feed people.’

   ‘See, you really are one of us already,’ smiled Doyoung.

   ‘Jaehyun and I are going to do some hunting before we set off again,’ announced Johnny, as he brushed down his clothes when he stood up. ‘Everything will be coming out at dawn.’

   Taeyong knew that he was talking about the animals, but he couldn’t help the way that his stomach turned over at the thought that soon… _soon_ , people would notice his disappearance. It would take them a while, maybe, because Jaehyun was usually the only person that he talked to early in the day, but not long.

   Doyoung seemed to be thinking the same thing. ‘Be quick. We need to start moving again soon.’

   ‘I don’t think they’re really going hunting,’ Taeyong whispered when Jaehyun and Johnny nodded and vanished in amongst the trees.

   Doyoung laughed, a laugh so bright that Taeyong didn’t even recognise it.

   ‘Doyoung… when you say that you have plans for us… what is it? Where are we going?’

   ‘North,’ said Doyoung. ‘There is a village, one so distant from the nearest towns that most have forgotten its existence. The people there, though, are loyal to me. I’ve found us somewhere to live, _not_ out in the forest, for you, more than me. I know you think you’d be fine out here,’ he said quickly when Taeyong went to protest, ‘but I’m worried about your health. You’re not ready for all this yet.’

   Taeyong pouted, but he didn’t argue.

   ‘I’ll stay with you. My men will be in the forest, of course. I’ll continue my work. There are always new people like your father for me to terrorise,’ he winked. ‘You can sell some of your art, I’ll keep the local noblemen in line. We’ll be happy. And if they find us, we’ll move again. We’ll keep going further until they can’t follow us anymore.’

   Taeyong closed his eyes and lived in the sound of his voice. ‘I can’t believe you’ve done all of this for me.’

   Doyoung smirked. ‘Well, it’s nice taking something _so_ important from the Duke too.’

   Taeyong gave him a shove, but Doyoung caught his wrists easily and held him still to kiss him.

   ‘What’s it like?’ Taeyong asked when they broke apart. ‘What’s it like being chased all the time?’

   Doyoung pulled an expression of contemplation. ‘It can be scary. But mostly? Well, it’s fantastic,’ he smiled, ‘you know I like to be reckless. You know I like the feeling in my blood when I’m inches from capture.’

   ‘So you don’t have any regrets? For the things you’ve given up?’

   ‘Not a single one.’

   Taeyong took Doyoung’s hand in his and traced the lines of his fingers. They were beautiful hands, all the more beautiful when the played the string of a bow like the most vibrant instrument in the world.

   ‘And anyway, all of my choices led me to you. My very own golden arrow, right through here,’ he tapped the palm of his free hand over his heart.

   A pink tint took over Taeyong’s cheeks again.

   ‘So, are you ready to start again?’ asked Doyoung.

   Taeyong looked around the trees. There was comfort in their shelter, but the thought of a home with Doyoung filled him with anticipation too. ‘Doyoung, I’ve never been more ready in my life.’

   Doyoung might have called it _starting again_ , but to Taeyong it felt different. Everything up until now had not been living.

   No.

   Now, he was starting his life for the very first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you believe it? It’s finished. Wow.  
> This fic has really been such a ride to write over the last five months. I have so enjoyed living in their world. I hope that you enjoyed it too, and that this last chapter gives you everything that you wanted from the story.  
> Thank you so much for supporting the fic all this time, for all of your incredible comments.  
> I’ll be back with more dotae very soon  
> May xx 
> 
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/puffyong_)


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